


Pulled

by Pylades_Drunk



Series: Monster High Au [1]
Category: IT (2017), Monster High, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: As she is the Cleo de Nile of the Au, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mike's parents are alive, Multi, Richie and Mike Wheeler are Two people in one body like Jackson and DJ/Holt, The Bev/Richie is shortlived
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-08 01:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 41,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12854166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pylades_Drunk/pseuds/Pylades_Drunk
Summary: Fitting in is outEddie is newEddie and his family left behind glamorous Los Angeles for the fresh air of Derry, Maine. After shedding his old camel hump nose and constant stream of medicine and asthma attacks, Eddie finally gets to be "the pretty boy" at Merston High. Too bad he feels like a fraud... until he meets Richie. But his new romance gets tricky when Eddie hears completely impossible rumors about... Monster sightings?!Mike is NewerFellow new student Mike has lived in Derry all of his life- but then again, he's only been alive for fourteen days. He sets out to conquer high school, boys, and social activism, in that order. But if he wants to fit in, he's going to have to hide a monster of a secret. Instead, he risk it all for a stolen kiss- a mistake that could cost him everything.





	1. Prologue

**_PROLOGUE_ **

  
  


  Mike Hanlon’s eyelids fluttered open. Flashes of sterile white strobed his eyes as he struggled to focus, but he was too tired to lift his lids fully.

  “His cerebral cortex has been loaded.” Announced a kind sounding man’s voice, full of love, satisfaction, and fatigue. 

  “Can he hear us yet?” asked a woman.

  “Hear, see, understand, and identify more that 500 0bjects.” he answered, delighted. “If I keep filling his brain with more information, in two weeks, he’ll have all the typical intelligence and physical capabilities of a typical fourteen-year-old.” he paused. “Well, okay, maybe a little smarter than that. But he’ll be fourteen.”

  “Oh, Will this is the happiest moment of my life.” The woman sniffled. “He’s perfect.” 

  “I know.” He sniffed too. “Dad’s perfect little man.”

  They took turns kissing Mike’s forehead. One smelled of chemicals and an underlying farm animal smell. The other smelled of gardenias. Together they smelled of love. 

  Mike tried to force his eyes open. This time, they barely fluttered.

  “Will! He blinked!” the woman explained. “She’s trying to see us! Mike, baby, I’m Jessica, your mommy. Can you see me?”

  “He can’t,” Will said.

Mike’s body tensed at those words. How could someone else decide what he could and couldn’t do? It didn’t make any sense to him.

  “Why not?” his mother asked for both of them.

  “His battery pack is almost drained. He needs a charge.”

  “So charge him!” 

_   Yes! Please charge me! Charge me! Charge me! _

  More than anything else, he wanted to see all 500 objects his dad had put into his mind. Wanted to see his parents faces while they identified objects for him. Wanted to come to life and explore the world he’d been born into. But he couldn’t move.

  “I can’t charge him until his bolts set.”

  Mike’s mother sniffled.

  “It’s okay sweetie,” Will cooed. “A few more hours and he’ll be stable enough to charge.”

  “It’s not that.” Jessica inhaled sharply

  “Then what?”

  “He’s so beautiful and full of potential, and it…” She sniffed again. “It just breaks my heart that he’s going to have to live the way we do.” 

  “And what’s wrong with us?” he asked. Yet something in the way he asked suggested he already knew. 

  She snickered. “You’re kidding right?”

  “Jess, things won’t always be like this.” Will said. “Times will change. You’ll see.”

  “How? Who’s going to change them?” 

  “I don’t know. Someone will. Eventually.”

  “Well, I hope we’ll be around to see it.” she said sighing.

  “We will be,” Will assured her. “We Hanlons tend to live long lives.”

  Jessica giggled softly

  Mike desperately wanted to know what his parents meant. What were these “times” they were talking about? He needed to charge. But asking became impossible once his battery completely drained. Feeling both light headed and heavy all over, Mike fell deeper into the darkness, settling in a place where he couldn’t hear his parents anymore, nor could he recall any of what his mom and dad spoke of. 

  All Mike could do was hope that by the time he woke up, whatever that thing that Jessica wanted to be “around to see” would be there. And if it wasn’t, that Mike himself would have the strength and courage to get it for her.


	2. New Found Beauty

   The five hour drive from Rochester to Derry had been a complete nightmare. It went from Road trip to guilt trip in less than a minute. And the torture didn’t let up the entire 517 miles. Faking sleep was Eddie’s only escape.

  “Welcome to Bore-aine,” his older brother mumbled as they crossed the state line into Maine. “Or should I call it, Maine Pain? How about Abhor-ain? Or maybe-”

   “Victor, that’s enough.” Their father snapped from the driver’s seat of Vic’s new Jeep. Green in efficiency and blue in color, it was one of the many overtures his parents had taken to show the locals that Darryl and Samantha Criss were more than just good looking transplants from 90210. 

   The many pre-shipped UPS boxes filled with kayaks, sailboards, fishing poles, canteens, instructional wine tasting dvds, organic trail mix, camping gear, bear traps, walkie-talkies, crampons, ice picks, cobra hammers, adzes, skis, boots, poles, snowboards, helmets, burton outerwear, and flannel underwear were just a few more.

   But Victor’s derisive comments got louder once it started raining. “Ahhhhh, August in Storm-aine!” Victor sniffed. “Ain’t it grand?” An eye roll ensued. Eddie didn’t have to open his eyes to confirm this, but he still did. 

   He could see Vic viciously kicking the back of their mother’s seat. He then blew his nose and flung the tissue at Eddie. Eddie held himself impossibly still. It was easier than fighting him. 

“I don’t get it! Eddie survived fourteen years breathing smog! One more wouldn’t kill him. He could wear a mask. People could sign it like they do casts. Maybe it would inspire a whole line of accessories for asthmatics. Like inhalers on necklaces and-.”

   “Vic, enough.” Samantha sighed, obviously exhausted from the month long debate.

   “But next september, I’ll be in college,” Vic pressed, not used to losing an argument. He was blond, perfectly proportioned, and used to getting what he wanted. “You couldn’t wait one more year to move?” 

   “This move will be good for all of us. It’s not just about your brother’s asthma. Merston High is one of Maine’s top schools. Plus, it’s all about connecting with nature and getting away from the Los Angeles superficiality.

   Eddie smiled to himself. His father, Darryl, was a celebrated plastic surgeon, and his mother a personal shopper for the stars. Superficiality was their master. They were it’s zombies. Still, Eddie appreciated the sentiment of Samantha’s ongoing effort to keep Victor from blaming him. Even though it  _ was  _ his fault.

   In a family of genetically perfect human beings, Eddie Criss was an anomaly. A rarity. An Oddity. Abnormal.   
   Darryl had been blessed with Italian good looks despite his SoCal roots. The flicker in his black eyes was like sunshine on a lake. His smile warmed like “cashmere, and his perma-tan had done zero damage to his forty-six-year-old skin. With just the right stubble-to-hair-gel ratio, he had as many male patients as female ones. Each one hoped to peel off the bandages and look ageless… just like Darryl.

   Samantha was forty-two but, thanks to her husband, her blemish-free skin had been nipped and tucked long before she needed the procedures. She seemed to have one pedicured foot off the human development chart and into the next stage of evolution—a stage that defied gravity and ceased to age her past thirty-four. With wavy shoulder-length auburn hair, aqua blue eyes, and lips so naturally puffed they needed no collagen, Samantha could have modeled had she not been so petite. Everyone said so. At any rate, she swore personal shopping always would have been her career choice, even if Darryl had given her calf extensions.

   Lucky Victor was a combination of both his parents. Like an alpha predator, he had filled up on the good stuff, leaving scraps for the next offspring in line. While the petite lean frame he inherited from his father hurt his potential modeling career it did wonders for his wardrobe, which was bursting with hand-me-downs that included everything from Gap to st. Laurent (but mostly St. Laurent). She had Samantha’s fawn brown eyes and Darryl’s sunny sparkle, Darryl’s porcelain skin and Samantha’s airbrushed complexion. His cheekbones ascended like marble banisters. And his undercut, which happily assumed the texture of straight or wavy, was the color of mozzarella. Victor’s friends (and their mothers) would snap photos of his square jaw, strong chin, or straight nose and give them to Darryl with the hopes that his hands could work the same miracles his DNA once did. And, of course, they did.

   Even with Eddie.

   Convinced that he’d been taken home by the wrong family from the hospital, Eddie placed little value on physical appearance. What point would it make? His chin was round, his cheeks were chubby, and his hair was a flat brown. No Highlights. No lowlights. Just dull brown. His eyes, while perfectly functional, were as brown as mud and as wide as a scared bunny’s. Not that anyone noticed. His nose took center stage. Composed of two bumps, his nose looked like a camel doing a downward dog.

   Not that it mattered. As far as Eddie had been concerned, the ability to sing was his best asset. Music teachers had gushed over his pitch perfect voice. Clear, angelic, and haunting, it had a mesmerizing effect on everyone who heard it, and teary audiences would spring to their feet after every recital. Unfortunately, by the time he was nine, asthma had taken center stage and had stolen the show.

   Once eddie was in middle school, Darryl offered to operate. But Eddie refused. A new nose wouldn’t cure his asthma, so why bother? All he had to do was hold out until high school, and things would get better. So first month of summer, he gave in and they fixed his nose. Gone was the camel, replaced by a cute button nose. Not that he got the chance. During the Criss Family Fourth of July barbeque where he used to sing the national anthem, Eddie had an asthma attack that landed him in Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. In the waiting room, Samantha anxiously flipped through magazines and happened to land on a lush picture of Maine, claiming she could just smell the fresh air by looking at it. When Eddie was released, his parents told him that they were moving. And for the first time ever, a smile spread across his perfectly symmetrical face.

   “ _Hellooooo_ _Maine_ place to be.” He said to himself as the blue jeep forged ahead.

   Then, lulled by the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers and the tapping of falling rain, Eddie drifted off to sleep.

   This time he actually did.


	3. Life's a Stitch

      The sun was finally up. The birds were chirping their normal playlist. Outside Mike’s frosted window into his bedroom, children rode by on bikes. The neighborhood was awake. He could finally blast Panic! At The Disco.

       _All My Friends Were Glorious, Tonight We Are Victorious_

  More than anything, Mike wanted to dance along to Victorious. But he had to wait until he was fully charged up. Interrupting could lead to dizzy spells, short term memory loss, fainting spells, and even coma. The upside was his phone never needed to charge. As long as he kept it near him, it had more juice than tropicana.

     Relaxing in his morning charge, he laid on his back with a tangle of red and black wires attached to his bolts. While the last electrical current zipped through Mike’s body as he flipped through a national geographic issue.

     As soon as Electra (the name he’d given the amp machine, because its technical name was too hard to pronounce) shut down, Mike delighted in the itchy tingle of his neck bolts when they started to cool. Feeling invigorated, he disconnected himself and bopped around the room to Zero Zero and singing excitedly to his pet mice.

     “Do I hear singing?” his dad asked, pretending to be annoyed as he knocked on the closed door.

     Mike paused his music. “Yessss!” he called, ignoring his faking-annoyed tone- a tone he’d been using since Mike filled every beaker with pens and taped Aaron Taylor-Johnson’s face on the anatomy skeleton in the corner of the room.

     “How’re you feeling, bud?” Will Hanlon knocked again and opened the door. Mike’s mom followed Will into the room.

     Will was swinging a leather duffel and wearing a black tracksuit and his favorite ugg slippers with a hole in one toe.

      “Can we talk to you for a minute sweetheart?” Jessica asked in her sing song way that mimicked the swish of her pink cotton sun dress. Her voice was so sweet and delicate that most people were shocked that it came from a six-foot-tall woman.

      Both of his parents crossed the room, holding hands, ever the united front. It worried Mike, who worried that something was wrong.

      “Have a seat darling.” Jessica gestured to the brown pillow covered couch that Mike had begged his dad to find him. Being told to sit down worried Mike worse. In tv shows, that’s usually when parents break bad news. He went to tug at the black stitches that held his head in place.

      “Don’t tug.” Will cautioned. “There isn’t any need to be nervous. We just want to talk.” Mike’s stomach sank. They found out he’d spent nearly sixty bucks on work gloves he could make model sonic gloves out of.

      Jessica patted the leather cushion next to her, but Mike, fearing a lecture on the cost of a dollar, just settled on the rug.

      “What’s up?” he asked, smiling and trying to sound as if he hadn’t spent a lot of money on a theoretical science project.

      “Change is in the air.” Will inhaled deeply and rubbed his hands together, like he was about to tackle a particularly difficult scientific equation.

       _No more free reign with the credit cards?_ Mike wondered with a little fear. He mentally ran through his recent purchases. Netflix subscription, stuff to make working sonic gloves, a new terrarium for his mice that gave them enough room to run around. None of that was too bad. Was it the set of college level history books or the history of derry book he’d ordered?

      “It’s nothing to bad, baby. It’s just that your daddy and I are going back to the university at the end of summer and we figured, you should have friends your own age, despite what your grandpa says, so we figured we could send you to school.”

      “O-kay?” Mike asked, completely confused.

      “A normie school.” Jessica clarified. Mike was still confused. What on earth was a normie?

      “What’s a normie?” He asked.

      “Normies are people with common attributes, like him.” his mother pointed at the Tony Stark poster on his wall.

      “And I’m not a normie because…?” Mike prompted. He didn’t think he was that different from Tony Stark.

      “Because we built you. Literally built you by hand, in this lab. From perfect body parts that I made in this lab. I programmed your brain full of infortmation, stitched you together, and put bolts on the sides of your neck so you could get charged. You have no real need for food other than enjoyment. And, Mike, because you have no blood,, well, your skin is a greenish grey.”

      Mike grinned and said “I know. It’s so cool.”

      “It is.” Will chuckled. “That’s what makes you so special. No other student at your new school was made like that. Just you.”  
     “You mean the school will have other people in it?” Mike looked around the lab, the only room he’d ever truly known.   
      Will and Jessica nodded, guilt and trepidation wrinkling their foreheads.   
      Mike searched their misty eyes, wondering if this was really happening. Were they really going to just cut himloose? Drop him in a school full of normies and expect him to fend for himself? Did they really have the heart to walk away from him education so they could teach lecture halls full of perfect strangers instead?   
     Despite their quivering lips and salt-stained cheeks, it seemed that they actually were. Suddenly, a feeling that could only be measured on the Richter scale rumbled through Mike’s gut. It climbed up his chest, shot through his throat, and exploded right out of his mouth:

 

“VOLTAGE!”


	4. You've Got Male

     We’re here!” Darryl announced, beeping his horn repeatedly. “Wakey, wakey!”   
     Eddie peeled his ear off the cool window and opened his eyes. At first glance, the neighborhood seemed to be covered in cotton. He fumbled for the folded up glasses on his lap and shoved them on. Putting them on was like a polaroid from his camera developing, slowly sharpening.   
  The two moving trucks blocked access to their circular driveway and obstructed the view of the house. All Eddie could make out was half of a wraparound porch and its requisite swing, both of which appeared to be made of life-size Lincoln Logs. It was an image Eddie would never forget. Or was it the emotions the image conjured—hope, excitement, and fear of the unknown, all three tightly braided together, creating a fourth emotion that was impossible to define. He was getting a second chance at happiness, and it tickled like swallowing fifty fuzzy caterpillars.   
_ Beepbeepbeepbeep! _ __   
__ A husky mountain man wearing baggy jeans and a brown puffy Carhartt vest nodded hello as he pulled the Criss’ eggplant-colored Calvin Klein sectional from the truck.   
“That’s enough honking, dear. It’s early!” Samantha swatted her husband playfully. “The neighbors are going to think we’re lunatics.”

     The smell of coffee breath and cardboard to-go cups made Eddie’s stomach grumble. 

     “Yeah dad, stawp.” Vic moaned, his head resting on Eddie’s army green backpack. “You’re wakey-waking the only cool person in Derry.”   
      Darryl unclipped his seat belt and turned to face his oldest son. “And who might that be?”   
“Meeee.” Vic stretched, his grey t-shirt rising over his stomach. Eddie immediately jumped over his mom and got out of the jeep to dodge Vic’s inevitable hissy fit over leaving behind his friends in LA. 

      The rain had stopped and the sun was rising. A grey layer of mist laid over the neighborhood, making it look like something straight out of Twilight. It cast a beautiful haze around Radcliffe Way.

      “Get a whiff of that air, Eddie Spaghetti.” Darryl smacked his flannel covered lungs and lifted his head to face the tie-dyed sky.

      “I know dad. I can actually breath.” Eddie hugged his middle as he assured him, partly because he wanted to show that he appreciated his sacrifice, but also because he really could breath better.

      “You’ve gotta get out here Sam. It smells great out here!” Darryl tapped on Samantha’s window. 

      Samantha lifted one finger and nodded to Vic’s angry tirade in the backseat. Eddie truly felt awful for pulling Vic away from his friends.

      “Sorry.” Eddie hugged his dad again, this time a softer grip to show that Eddie really felt bad about pissing Vic off.

      “For what? This is amazing.” He took a deep breath. “The Crisses needed a change. We had LA all figured out. It’s time for a new challenge. Living is all about-”

      “WELL I WISH I WAS DEAD!” Vic shrieked from the back seat of the jeep. 

      “There goes the only cool person in Derry.” Darryl mumbled under his breath.

      Eddie’s head shot up and he locked eyes with his dad. The instant their eyes met, they were in hysterics.

     “Alright! Who’s ready for a grand tour?” Samantha opened the door. She struggled to get out, prompting Eddie to help her out of the jeep. The moment Samantha was on sturdy ground, Vic leap frogged out of the jeep.

     “FIRST ONE INSIDE GETS THE BIGGER ROOM!” Eddie immediately ran inside, racing his brother to get the larger room. Vic slowed down slightly, and Eddie stopped, only for Vic to pass him.

     Eddie was in awe of the whole house. You could see the wooded ravine out of the living room, the indoor pool in his parents room, and the beautiful clashing of the modern furniture and the rustic feel of the cabin. Eddie heard a bark and immediately perked up even more. 

     “Brandy!” Eddie crouched down as his pup bowled into him. He scratched her behind her ears and cooed. The little retriever pup was Eddie’s best friend. When he got out of the hospital, he and Vic both begged for a dog because Eddie was lonely and Vic had a life of his own to lead. His parents then gave Eddie Brandy, who he promptly named after his favorite song and showered with enough affection and care for five dogs. “I missed you baby. Yes I did! Yes I did!” 

      Eddie gathered Brandy into his arms and continued up the stairs. Brandy whined and wriggled the moment they got upstairs. Eddie placed her on the ground and she shot off towards the larger room. There was a loud crash and a shriek of laughter, indicating Brandy had barreled into Vic. Eddie cautiously opened the door and saw his brother being viciously licked by their two month old pup. “Brandy! Come!” Brandy got off of Vic who Eddie finally noticed was shirtless. 

      Vic walked over to open the window. “Whoa ho ho. Look at that guy.” Eddie peaked out of the window and saw a cute boy with almost no muscle mass and a head of wild ginger hair. He was mimicking a joust with the hose he was watering some pink and yellow roses with. Vic opened the window and yelled “HEY HOT STUFF!” Eddie went bright red as Vic ducked down. Eddie was suddenly aware of the rather baggy flannel and old ramones shirt he was wearing as well as his badly done attempt at an undercut. The boy waved up, confused. Eddie waved back, mortified. 

       “SORRY ABOUT THAT!” Eddie bellowed out the window. 

       The boy grinned and yelled back “You Sammy and Darryl’s son? Vic?”

       Eddie snorted and yelled back “I’m Eddie!” 

       “I’m Richie!” He yelled back, his grin even wider. “Nice to know my window mate’s the cute one, Eds!” 

       Eddie blushed brightly and said “Don’t call me Eds!”

       “Whatever you say, Eddie Spaghetti!” 

       Eddie slammed the window shut just in time because Vic resurfaced cackling and said “Ph my god! You like our nerdy neighbor!” 

       “I need this room Vic. Please.” Eddie begged. 

       “Fine. But only if you let me fix your haircut.” Vic conceded.


	5. Mint Condition

     Mike jumped up and danced to the beat of the long lingering Panic! At The Disco song in his head.   
     “So, you’re okay with going to school?” Jessica asked, her eyelashes fluttering in disbelief.  
     “Why wouldn’t I be? It’d be a chance to meet new people!” Mike decided.  
     “But you have to hide your skin and stitches.” Will warned. “If they see what we are, they’ll hurt you.”  
     Mike was confused. Why would they hurt him because of his skin? His skin and his bolts weren’t hurting anyone. “Why? I’m not hurting anyone.”   
     “I know sweetie, but some people are scared of anything that’s different and will hurt anyone who doesn’t look or act like them.” Jess explained  
     “So like beauty and the beast? How the villagers hurt the beast because he looked different?” Mike asked.  
     “Exactly like that. So you understand why you can’t go around with your skin and bolts?” Jess asked.  
     Mike nodded and secretly made a promise to change how the rads were viewed. His parents didn’t deserve to live in fear of what would happen if they were found out.


	6. Pickup Artists

Despite the fact that it was 8:30 in the morning, Eddie and Vic took to Radcliffe Way with the boundless energy of two teenage boys who’d been in a jeep for 5+ hours. Surprisingly, their neighborhood was full of energy at that hour. At the end of the street, kids circled the street on their bikes. A few doors down, an entire family of jocks were playing various sports.

“Is that all one family?” Eddie pondered as they got closer to the cavernous stone house. One of the boys looked over confused.

Vic shrugged and said “Parents must’ve had multiples.” The two games slowed to a stop as the Criss brothers got closer.

“Why are they staring at us?” Eddie mumbled. 

“Because we’re new and we’re hot?” Vic smiled his ‘flirty’ smile at the more college aged boys as the younger ones stared at Eddie. The small blonde child shoved at what must’ve been a seventeen year old boy and yelled over “Hi!” 

The child gave both brothers a large grin and Eddie waved back. Vic gave Eddie a smirk and yelled “I loved you in last months J.Crew catalogue!” The tiny blonde boy started laughing hard as all of his older brothers went red. Eddie shoved Vic and started walking faster to avoid being associated with his brother.

Vic caught up to Eddie as Eddie said “You’re making people stare at us. Stop it.” 

Vic gave him a look as he straightened out his ‘designer’ field jacket. “People stare when you’re hot. And I’m hot and you’re adorable and puppy-like.” 

    Eddie considered retaliating but didn’t bother. It wouldn’t change anything. Vic would always believe that good looks were a skeleton key for success. And Eddie would always hope that people were deeper than that.   
     They walked along the rest of Radcliffe Way in silence. The winding road cut through some kind of forest or ravine—the homes on both sides had grassy front yards and dense, woodsy thickets for backyards. But that’s where the similarities ended. Like the uniquely marked logs in the Criss cabin, each house had defining features that made it individual. 

      A vivid blue and green farmhouse in the cul-de-sac was fenced in by an unsightly tangle of electrical wires and phone lines. An old Victorian was completely shaded under a canopy of big-leaf maples and had an endless flurry of little seeds propelling themselves to the floor below. A black-bottomed swimming pool and dozens of mini sea-creature fountains provided tons of fun for everyone at No. 9. Even though the sun was tucked away under a duvet of silver-colored clouds, the neighbors were out swimming, splashing around like a school of playful dolphins.

     It was plenty evident that Derry was a lot more accepting of individuality. Even to the point of celebrating individuality. Eddie felt horrid. His nose would’ve fit in perfectly here.

     “Look!” He pointed at the multicolored car whizzing by. Its black doors were from a Mercedes coupe, the white hood from a BMW; the silver trunk was Jaguar, the red convertible top was Lexus, the whitewall tires were Bentley, the sound system Bose, and the music was classical. A hood ornament from each model dangling from the rear view mirror.  Its license plate appropriately read MUTT.   
   “That car looks like a moving Benetton ad.”   
   “Or a pileup on Rodeo Drive.” Vic snapped a picture with his iPhone and sent it to his friends back home. They responded instantly with a shot of what they were doing. It must have involved the mall because Vic picked up pace once they turned onto Neibolt Road and began asking anyone under the age of fifty where the cool people hung out. 

    The answer was almost unanimously the historical downtown area excluding an egyptian girl with vibrant red hair and gold and turquoise streaks who informed them that the Aladdin Plaza on the Riverfront was their best bet. But that the Plaza didn’t open for a few more hours. So both boys decided to buy breakfast at the cute little café owned and run by a petite woman and her ex-cop husband.

     As soon as it was pushing noon, the brothers headed to the Aladdin Plaza. “This is it?” Vic stopped short, as if he had hit a pane of glass. “This is the epicenter of Northeast chic?” He shouted at the snow cone cart, the children’s playground, and the brick building that housed a carousel. Eddie rolled his eyes at his brother’s dramatics.

       “I smell a Movie theater lobby.” The fourteen year old pointed to the historical looking building. “And look, a music store. I’m going to go sit down because my lungs feel like they’re going to give out but you can explore.”

      “Figures. You can take the nose out of Smelleddie,” Vic snarked, “But you can’t take the Smelleddie out of the nose.”

      “Haha. Very funny.” 

      “No, actually, it’s not!” Vic huffed. “None of this is very funny at all. In fact, it’s a total nightmare. Listen!” He pointed at the carousel. Manic organ music—a must for horror movie soundtracks and killer clown scenes. Like right out of American Horror Story. But also was nostalgic to Eddie for some unfathomable reason. “All I can think about is that one scary clown that tried to bite your arm off when we were six. And the only person over the age of eight and under the age of forty is that dude over there.” Vic pointed at a lone boy on a wooden bench. “And I think he’s crying.”   
His shoulders were hunched, and his head hung over a sketch pad. He lifted his eyes for quick glimpses of the spinning carousel, then went right back to scribbling.

Eddie’s armpits prickled with sweat, recognizing him instantly. “Vic, we need to go.” He tugged on Vic’s arm. A grin spread over Vic’s face as he realized that the boy was their neighbor. “No. No, you’re not going to embarrass me.” Eddie hissed, realizing why Vic was grinning. Vic pulled himself from Eddie’s grip and practically skipped over to Richie.

“Well, howdy neighbor.” Vic practically purred. Eddie caught up, wheezing slightly. Oh my god. Eddie thought, He’s cuter up close.

Thick black glasses surrounded his beautiful, almost sea glass colored eyes, making them seem like Polaroids of the coast during high tide. Richie, in Eddie’s eyes, looked like a superhero in disguise. Richie looked lost.

“You remember my brother from the window, don’t you?” Vic asked with a trace of revenge, as if it were Eddie’s fault the Aladdin Plaza was a bust.

“Cute cute cute!” Richie leapt up and pinched Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie smacked his hands away, glowing red.

“You’re kinda curdy,” Vic cooed, as if his contraction for  _ cute-nerdy  _ was actual English. “Any chance you have an older brother with good vision… or contacts?” she pressed.   
“Nope.” Richie’s clear, pale skin reddened. “Just me, fancy Nancy, and Holly Hobby.” Oh my god. He has sisters. Eddie thought.

He pressed his arms against his body to hide the pit sweat. “What are you drawing?” He asked. It wasn’t the most exciting question, but it was better than anything Vic was going to say.   
Richie consulted his sketch pad as if seeing it for the first time. “It’s just the carousel. You know, while it’s moving.”   
Eddie examined the blur of pastels. Inside the smudged rainbow were subtle outlines of horses and children. It had a gauzy, elusive quality to it—like the haunting memory of a dream, appearing and disappearing in fractured flashes throughout the day. “That’s really good,” he said, meaning it. “Have you been doing it long?”

Richie shrugged. “’Bout a half hour. I’m just waiting for my mom. She had a meeting around here, so…”

Eddie damn near cackled. “No, I meant have you been drawing long. You know, as a hobby.”

“Yeah. For a few years. It’s a side thing to playing the guitar and singing.” Richie admitted. Holy shit. He’s an artist AND he sings.

“Oh wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Vic suddenly began hacking a lung, scaring the daylights out of both younger teens.

“So, where are you two from?” Richie asked.

“Los Angeles.” Vic smirked.

“We moved because of my asthma.”

“ing up.   
“Well, it’s true.” Richie began laughing.

“I knew you had to have SOMETHING normal about you! You going to Merston High?”

“Well yeah. It’s the closest school.” Richie’s eyes lit up.

“Well I can tell you, you’re going to be a plus to the school. Everyone there is either little miss princess beverly’s followers or scared of Henry Bowers and Mr. Grey.” Richie offered.

“Are the people nice at least?”

“They’d probably be a bit nicer to me if my mom WASN’T the super strict English teacher. So I’m not exactly on any speed dials.” Eddie frowned and then came to a decision.

“I’ll put you on my speed dial.”

“Wait really?” His red curls bobbled out of shock.

“Yeah. It’d be nice to know someone at school.” Eddie smiled. Richie blushed and scribbled down his number. He ripped it off and handed it to Eddie.

“I’ll see you at school.” Richie smiled. “I can see my sister storming over.” He packed up his supplies and bolted.


	7. Nothing is as it Seams

Jessica knocked on the door to Mike’s lab. “Let’s go! We’re going to be late!”

“Coming!” Mike called in reply, just as he had the previous four times. But he couldn’t get the grease stains off of his skin. He groaned and resorted to some work gloves and threw on a blue hoodie over his white t-shirt.

“Ready!” Mike announced.   
his parents were standing at the stainless-steel island in the kitchen, alternating bites of the same bagel and speed-drinking their coffee—something they did to practice looking normal. Because, like Mike, they charged and didn’t need to eat.

The farmhouse had the electricity smell of burned toast and the ammonia smell of efficiency. The morning light approached the frosted windows, searching for a way inside. It was the same as always except everything felt different. It felt alive.

“You’re not going anywhere dressed like that!” Mike’s elderly grandfather slammed his white coffee mug on the open newspaper.

“Dad’s right Mike. Why aren’t you wearing your Fierce & Flawless?” Will asked.   
“Go green!” Mike preached, just like the magazines. “That’s one of the biggest messages of our time. Besides, I’m proud of who I am and how you made me. And if people don’t like me because I’m not a normie, then that’s their problem, not mine.”

“Michael,” Jessica tried. “Your father is right. You can’t go out with your seams and bolts on display.”

Mike glared at his cookie dough–colored parents breathing to the condescending rhythm of their mutual obstinacy.

“Go,” grandpa demanded, “before we’re all late.”

Mike stomped off to his bedroom. He emerged seconds later wearing a brown scarf tied like RyRo’s during pretty odd and leather wrist cuffs instead of the gloves. He smirked. “There. The seams and bolts are covered. Can we go now?”

Will and Jessica exchanged a glance and then made their way to the side door that connected to the garage. Mike followed behind, grinning. He was on the fast track to coolness.

Beepboop. The doors to the black Volvo SUV unlocked.   
“Let’s take MUTT!” He suggested, cherishing an implanted memory of a family drive to Silver Falls and wanting to experience it for real.

“I think we should take something less conspicuous,” Will insisted.

“But I really like MUTT.” Mike pleaded.

“No negotiating.” Will demanded.

 

The drive to school was unspeakably boring. He wasn’t allowed to open the windows or anything and everything looked exactly like in his implanted memories.

 

After a two-hour drive, the farm truck finally arrived at Mount Hood High. Mike couldn’t believe there wasn’t a closer school, but he didn’t dare say a word. His parents were already irritated, and he was worried that another disagreement might land him back at home.

Barely bothering to look at the regal mountain in the background or the red and yellow leaves that drifted aimlessly from the trees, Mike stepped out of the car and took his first real sniff of air. Crisp, cool, and free of formaldehyde and chicken droppings, it smelled like spring water in a bowl of soil. He lifted bis green face to the sky. Unfiltered sun hugged and warmed his skin. His eyes teared from the glare. Or was it the joy?

It didn’t matter that Mike had no idea where to go. Or that he had never ventured away from his parents before. They had filled him with so much knowledge and confidence, he had no doubt he would find her way. And he’d enjoy trying.   
It was odd to see the campus bare, with so few cars in the parking lot. He was tempted to ask his parents where everyone was. He decided against it. Why make them think he wasn’t ready?   
“Are you sure you don’t want makeup?” Jessica asked, her head poking out the passenger-side window.   
“Positive,” Mike assured her. The sun on his arms felt more energizing than Carmen Electra. “See you after school.” He smiled before they had empty-nest meltdowns. “Good luck with your first day back at work.”   
“Thanks,” they answered, together, of course.

Mike strolled toward the main doors, sniffing the air like he was at an all-you-can-breathe buffet. He could feel their eyes tracking him across the empty parking lot, but he refused to look back. From this moment on, it was all about moving forward. He was so excited that he didn’t notice a door opening until it hit him in the face, knocking him down.

“Oh no! Are you okay?” asked a gaggle of girls in varying tones. They had crowded around him like the New York City skyline. A medley of perfumes chased away Mike’s fresh air and left behind a fruit-scented bout of nausea.

“It was a total accident,” said one of them. “We didn’t see you. Can you see?”

The friendly gesture bathed Mike in more warmth than the sun. Normies were nice! “I’m okay.” He smiled and looked up. “It was more startling than anything.” 

“What the  _ Shrek _ … is that?” A blond in a yellow-and-green cheerleader outfit backed away.   
“Either you’re majorly carsick or your skin is… green,” another blond noted.

“Is this a joke?” asked another one, backing away just in case.

“No, it really is mint.” He smiled humbly and extended his arm for a friendly shake. His cuff slid forward, revealing a row of wrist seams, but Mike didn’t notice. “I’m new here. My name is Mike and I’m from—”

“The Build-A-Bear Workshop?” one of them asked, slowly moving away.

“Monster!” yelled the only brunette. She pulled a cell phone out of her bra, dialed 911, and ran into the school.

“Ahhhhhhh!” the others screamed, wiggling their limbs as though they were covered in bugs.

“I knew it was bad luck to practice on a Sunday!” One of them sobbed.

Sunday? Humiliation and anger coursed through Mike as he realized his parents set him up. Tears pricked his eyes as he ran away from the cheerleaders.

The black Volvo skidded to a halt at the bottom of the steps, and Will jumped out.   
“Hurry!” Jessica called from the open window. Mike pushed down his hurt and humiliation to run to the truck.

“I wanted to teach you a lesson,” he mumbled, hugging his son tightly. “But I never should have let it go this far.”

Mike burst into tears as his father sped out of the parking lot and turned, tires screeching onto Balsam Avenue. The truck merged with traffic just as a slew of police cars pulled up and surrounded the school.   
“Just in time,” Jessica uttered softly, and tears began to roll down his face.

Will’s attention lay solely on the road ahead. His squint was unwavering, and his thin lips were sealed shut. There was no need for an I-told-you-so lecture. Or even an apology from Mike. It was clear what had happened and obvious what each one of them could have done differently. Only one question remained: What now?

Mike glared at his tear-soaked face reflected in the truck window. The ugly truth glared back. His looks were frightening.   
One by one, drops fell from his eyes like they were on an assembly line—gather, fall, slide… gather, fall, slide… each one commemorating something he had lost. Hope. Faith. Confidence. Pride. Security.

Trust. Independence. Joy. Beauty. Freedom. Innocence.

His father turned on the radio.   
“… alleged monster sighting at Mount Hood High has four cheerleaders in a state of absolute panic.” News had traveled fast.   
“Turn it off, Will,” Jessica said, sniffing.

“It’s important to know what they know,” he said, turning up the volume. “We need to assess the damage.”

Mike sparked.   
“… Tell us exactly what you saw,” said the deep male voice on the radio.   
“She was green—at least, I think she was a she. But it was hard to tell. It all happened so fast. One minute it was pretending to be human, and the next it was reaching for us like some kind of”—the girl’s voice began to quake—“alien beeeeeasttttttttt!” Mike buried his face in his arms and cried silently.

“I was trying to say hi.” Mike mumbled.

“You’re safe now,” the interviewer said, trying to comfort the witness. “Why don’t you take a minute,” he suggested, his voice temporarily trailing off.

When he returned, he was all business. “Salem had its first monster sighting back in 1940,” he explained, “when a pack of werewolves was apprehended at the California-Oregon border holding McDonald’s bags in between their teeth. Things were peaceful again until 2015, when a boy named Belch began disappearing and reappearing right before people’s eyes. And now a green alien beast has been spotted at Mount Hood High.…”

Jessica snapped off the radio. “At least they’re looking for an alien.” She sighed, relieved.

“Mike”—Will met his son’s eyes in the rearview mirror—“classes start Tuesday. After Labor Day. At your real school. It’s called Merston High, and it’s three blocks from our house. But we won’t let you go unless—”

“I know. I get it.” Mike sniffed. “I’ll wear everything. I promise.” He meant it. His desire to go green was gone.


	8. Friend-Free Zone

 

The lunchtime bell  _ bwoopbwooped _ like a European busy signal. The inaugural morning at Merston High was officially over. It was no longer a mysterious place in Eddie’s imagination, filled with endless possibilities and hooks on which to hang hope for a better tomorrow. It was insanely normal and frankly boring. Like meeting an online crush after months of e-flirting, the reality didn’t live up to the fantasy. It was dull, predictable, and way more attractive in the photos.

Architecturally, the mustard-yellow brick rectangle was plainer than a pack of Trident. The sweaty-pencil-eraser-library-book smell that would undoubtedly morph into a sweaty-pencil-eraser-library-book headache by two o’clock was so typical. And the goofy desk etchings that said BITE ME, STANLEY!, WEAK FOR WEEKS, and GLUTEN-FREE GEEK paled in comparison to the ones she used to see in Beverly Hills, which had read like TMZ text alerts.   
Tired, hungry, and disappointed, Eddie felt like a refugee, only slightly more fashion-forward, as he ambled along with the masses in search of food. Dressed in Vic’s black skinny jeans (at his brother’s insistence), a white shirt that said Cherry Bomb in black spray paint, combat boots that went almost to his knees at his height and a leather jacket that had been Darryl’s during the 80s, he was ’70s punk revival in a school that still wore original Woodstock. His outfit seemed unnecessarily harsh amid the flowing skirts and flannel, making him feel like he was at the wrong concert. Even his black hair stuck up everywhere in curls with anti establishment apathy, thanks to a travel bottle of conditioner that had been incorrectly labeled SHAMPOO. He hoped the tough guy get up would make it so everyone knew he was nobody’s smelleddie. 

Ever since their conversation at the Riverfront, the goofy guy who wrote his number in red pastel had been physically and technologically MIA. After taping his sketch to her log wall, Eddie entered him as “R” on his speed dial. And speed-dial he did! But he never responded. He scrutinized their encounter by reading between the lines, looking underneath words, checking behind gestures… and found no logical explanation.

Perhaps it was the stilted conversation. But isn’t awkwardness something we have in common? After forty-plus hours of analysis, Eddie had reached a conclusion. It must have been his road trip outfit after all.   
And then he heard about the ol’“curdy con,” a term Vic introduced him to while they played with Brandy, enjoying their last homework-free night of the summer.

“It’s a classic sting.” Vic had explained while throwing a stick for Brandy. “A boy acts all curdy to earn a girl’s trust. Once he has it, he gets all Free Birdie and flies the coop for a day or two. This ropes the girl in even more because she’s concerned. Soon concern becomes insecurity. And then”—he snapped his fingers—“he appears out of nowhere and surprises her. The girl is so relieved he’s not dead and soooo happy he still likes her, she throws herself at him. And once they’re in a full-on chest-to-chest hug he becomes…”—he paused for dramatic effect—“the Dirty Birdie! Known in some circles as the Pervy Birdie, or just the Worm. Happened to Penelope when we were in the 9th grade. If that’s what Richie did, I’ll kick his ass for you.”

“He’s not scamming me,” Eddie insisted, peeking at his iPhone. But the Free Birdie was silent. Not a single tweet.   
“Okay.” Vic hopped back onto the porch. “Just don’t be surprised if he’s not the guy you think he is.” He snapped his fingers and said, “Vic out!” Then he marched into the cabin.

“Thanks for the advice,” Eddie called, wondering if Richie was watching him from his bedroom window. If he wasn’t, where was he? And if he was, why wasn’t he calling?

 

Eddie tried to shrug off the overanalysis and shuffled into the cafeteria with the rest of the students. He silently bopped his head along to Janis Joplin’s To Love Somebody.

Eddie hung back by a sign-up booth for the September Semi Committee (whatever that was), pretending to read about the various volunteer opportunities while assessing the lunchroom politics. He’d assumed he’d have seen Richie by now. It was the first day of school and his mother, Ms. Tozier, was an english teacher, after all. But he had obviously skipped out on her too.   
The tangy-carcass smell of ketchup and cows (meat loaf?) was more overwhelming than the four different “food zones.” Defined by chair color and identified with spirited hand-painted signs, the Peanut-Free Zone was brown; the Gluten-Free Zone was blue; the Lactose-Free Zone was orange; and the Allergy-Free Zone was white. Students carrying color-coordinated trays clamored to mark their territory as if racing for seats at the IMAX 3D opening of Avatar. Once their territory had been claimed, they strolled toward the appropriate food station to make their dietitian-approved selections and catch up with friends.

“We’re not in Kansas anymore, toto.” He mumbled to himself. The girl at the table gave him a dirty look and tidied up her tidy stack of sign-up sheets.

Perfect, Eddie scowled inching away from her, maybe I’ll get my one zone. Friend free zone.

To Love Somebody ended and transitioned into Boulevard of Broken Dreams, perfectly encapsulating Eddie’s morose disposition.  At least he could cling to Vic, who was seated between two other blonds in the Allergy-Free Zone, reading some hottie’s palm.

Eddie slid his white tray along the rails, fixing his gaze straight ahead to the last slice of cheese-and-mushroom pizza. A couple standing behind him held hands and peered over his shoulder for a peek at the day’s lunch specials. But they didn’t sound the least bit interested in meat ravioli or salmon burgers. Instead, they were talking about his latest Twitter update. Which, if Eddie overheard correctly, was about a monster sighting in Mount Hood.

“I swear, Henry,” said the smaller, shyer one, his voice soft and quiet. “I want to be the one to catch it.”

“What would you do with it?” The taller and more visually outgoing one asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “Oh, I know! You could hang the head over your bed. And use the arms for coat hooks, the legs for door jambs, and the butt for a pen holder!”

“No way,” he snapped, as if offended. “I’d earn its trust and then make a documentary about the annual migration.”

The what?

Eddie couldn't feign interest in garlic mashed potatoes for one more second. Curiosity was killing him. With a strained half turn, like the kind used to silence loud talkers in movie theaters, Eddie looked.   
The boy had dyed black hair with frayed, uneven edges that were cut by either a rusty blade or a vengeful woodpecker. Warm brown eyes stood out against his pale skin. 

He caught her looking and grinned.   
He quickly turned away, taking the image of his grey Frankenstein T-shirt, ragged jeans, and black nail polish with him.

_ “Will!” _ the taller boy barked. “I saw that!”   
_ “What?”  _ He sounded like Darryl when Samantha caught him drinking milk from the carton.   
“Whatever!” Henry yanked him toward the salad bar. He had on a white muscle shirt and acid wash, skin tight skinny jeans. Wardrobe-wise, he was the Beast to Will’s beauty.   
The line inched forward.   
“What was that all about?” Eddie Asked the taller boy standing behind him. Dressed in a thick wool suit and work gloves, he may have been at the wrong concert too. He was dressed like she would have preferred, instead of a rock band, church choir as he did penance.   
“I think he’s jealous,” the boy mumbled shyly.

“No.” Eddie grinned. “I mean, about that whole monster thing. Is that some kind of a local joke?”

“Um, I dunno.” The boy shook his head. “I’m new here.”

“Me too! My name is Eddie.” He beamed, offering his right hand.   
“Mike.” He gripped firmly and shook back.   
A tiny spark of static electricity passed between them. It felt like taking off a sweater in ski country.   
“Ouch!” Eddie snorted.

“Sorry,” Mike blurted, his face contorting regretfully.   
Before Eddie could tell him it was okay, Mike took off, leaving his white tray on the rails and the sting of another botched friendship on Eddie’s palm.   
Suddenly, a camera’s flash went off in his face. “What the…?” Through a flurry of pulsing white spots, he saw a lanky boy with a head of shiny black hair scampering away.   
“Hey,” said a familiar male voice.   
Slowly, the flash spots began to fade. One by one, like a cheesy special effect, they fell away, and his blurry vision sharpened.   
And there he was.…   
Wearing an untucked eye wateringly bright hawaiian print shirt, black jeans, and black converse. An unstoppable grin lit his quietly handsome face.   
“Richie!” He trumpeted, and then resisted the urge to hug him. What if this is  _ a curdy con? _ __   
“Howzit going?”   
“Fine, you?”   
“I was sick all weekend.” He said it like it actually might have been true.   
“Too sick to answer your phone?” Eddie blurted. So what if he sounded like a possessive freak? He was a possible curdy conner.   
“Who’s hungry?” called an egg-shaped man with a dark mustache, who was standing behind the counter. He clapped his silver tongs at Eddie. “What’rya having?”   
“Um.” He gazed longingly at the last slice of mushroom pizza. Like a puppy in a pet store making one final plea for adoption, it gazed back. But his pretzel-twisted stomach couldn’t do any major digesting right now. “No, thanks.”

He made a break for the lighter fare. Richie followed.

“So, what’s the point of speed dial if you don’t pick up?” Eddie plopped a bunch of grapes and a blueberry muffin on his tray.   
“What’s the point of picking up if no one calls?” he countered. Still, the corners of his mouth were soft and forgiving, even playful.   
“But I did call.” Eddie popped a grape into his mouth before paying. “Like, three times.” (It was more like seven, but why make things more embarrassing than they already were?)

Richie pulled a black iphone out of his jeans pocket and waved it in front of his face as proof. The screen indicated zero messages. It also showed his phone number. Which happened to end in a 7. Not a 1.

Eddie’s cheeks burned as she recalled the red thumb smudge—her red thumb smudge—by his number on the sketch-

“Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw. I put your number in wrong.” Richie’s eyes lit up at the Heather’s reference.

He grabbed a bag of Baked! Lays and a can of Sprite. “So, um, you wanna grab seats together? If not I understand.…”   
“Sure,” Eddie said, and then proudly followed his first friend (with boyfriend potential) at Merston High toward the Allergy-Free Zone.

Two alternative teens, consumed by their own conversation, tried to squeeze past them. The baby James McAvoy-looking one, who had blondish locks and a tray stacked with Kobe beef sliders, made it by Richie. But the other one, with vibrant red bangs and chunky turquoise & gold highlights, got sandwiched between Eddie’s shoulder and a blue chair.

“Watch it!” she barked, teetering on her gold wedges.   
“Sorry.” Eddie grabbed the girl’s latte-colored arm before she fell. Unfortunately, he couldn’t save the lunch. The white plastic tray dropped to the floor with a loud smack. Red grapes scattered like pearls on a broken necklace as the divided cafeteria came together for a round of applause. “Oh christ. I am so sorry.”

“Why do people always clap when someone drops something?” Richie asked.

Eddie shrugged. The girl, obviously at home in the spotlight, blew kisses to the audience. Dressed in teal shorts and a gold sequin top that no fifteen year old should be wearing, she had the Olympic figure skater thing down.   
When the applause died, she turned to Eddie, and her smile came crashing down like the final curtain. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” she huffed.

Eddie laughed. It seemed that all high school battles opened with that line.   
“Huh?” the girl pressed.   
“Actually,” Eddie countered, gleaning power from his Runaways tee, “you squeezed by me.”   
“Unt-true!” Stutter-barked the boy with the sliders. His statement came out so quickly, it sounded more like a sneeze. “I saw the whole thing, and you banged right into Beverly.” The barker wore black skinny jeans and a black bomber jacket lined in fur the same color as his hair. Not quite what Eddie expected from this State. The Show Me State, maybe.   
“It was an accident, Bill,” Richie explained, obviously trying to keep the peace.   
“I’ve got it.” Beverly licked her glossy lips as if tasting the deliciousness of her own idea. “You give me your grapes.”

“Fuck no. You tried to shove your way past me, you dropped your food.” Eddie snapped. “I’ll say sorry since I didn’t get out of your way fast enough but I’m not giving up my grapes.” He had spent the last fifteen years giving grapes to bullies. And now he was done.

“Listen, Eddork…” Beverly leaned closer and gritted her teeth.   
“How do you know my name?”   
Bill howled with laughter.   
“I know everything around here.” Beverly opened her arms wide, claiming the cafeteria as her kingdom. Well, maybe it was. Still, Eddork was nobody’s peasant.

“I also know”—Beverly raised her voice, continuing to perform for her fans in the blue seats—“that if you don’t give me those grapes, you’ll be eating over there.” She pointed to the empty table outside the boys’ bathroom. It was spackled in wet toilet paper and crumbled urinal cakes.

Eddie looked to Vic who was surrounded by girls asking him to read their palms. Of course his brother was blind to him getting bullied again.

“Well?” Beverly tapped her fingers.

“No.” Eddie said defiantly.

Bill gasped. Richie looked in awe.

“Fine.” Beverly smirked. 

“You’re in t-trouble now new kid.” Bill crossed his arms, mirroring his friend’s expression. Eddie just coolly raised his eyebrows. Nothing Beverly could do couldn’t be fixed by his dad.

“You take something of mine? Then I’ll take something of yours!” Beverly said.

“I took nothing of yours.” Eddie protested. But it was too late. Beverly swiped more lipgloss on and tugged Richie close. She planted a kiss on him. Eddie’s heart shattered seeing Richie give in to Beverly’s kiss and even reciprocating. Something else blossomed in Eddie’s chest. Anger. Sheer, unmatched rage at how easily he was played by Richie.

“Whew.” Beverly smirked at Eddie, he could just tell she knew she’d gotten to him. “Nice to meet you, Eddork.”

She and her sidekick walked off with the unmatched pride of the cat who’d gotten the cream.

“Are you actually jealous?” Eddie looked at Richie who’d taken off his glasses. His forehead had a light sheen of sweat.

“Excuse me?” Eddie hissed. Eddie had truly never been more humiliated.

“I’m just telling you,” He looked a little mousier than he had before, “Green doesn’t suit you.”

“You’re a dick.” Eddie snapped. “A grade A douche canoe.” He glared down at his tray and angrily continued. “Go sit with your stupid little girlfriend instead of leading on innocent gay kids you dickwad.” Richie seemed shocked by his anger and thus left quickly. Eddie threw his tray onto the table behind him. He wasn’t going to be able to eat. His stomach was in-.

“-MUFFIN!” shrieked a girl.   
People backed away as if Eddie had peed in the pool. The Gluten-Free Zone evacuated immediately, leaving him to stew in his own contamination.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror and all he could see was a squirrel faced loser.

His brown eyes were dull, his cheeks were chubby, and he just looked tired.

“Nice gluten grenade.” A boy snickered. Eddie’s head whipped around and he saw a boy with a blonde mullet, icy blue eyes, and freckles. It was the same guy who had suggested the monster-butt pen holder to his friend. “I said, nice gluten grenade. You got rid of the blues like it was sharknado. Next time try spilling milk in the orange zone. We call that a dairy dump.”

Eddie tried to laugh, but it sounded like a moan.

“What’s up?” asked the boy. “You seem kinda down for a PT.”

“A what?” Eddie snapped, craving just one second of normalcy.   
“PT,” echoed the lanky boy who had snapped Eddie picture and made him see spots before  _ he _ showed up.   
“What’s a PT?” Eddie asked, but only because no one else was talking to he and he was tired of being alone.

The third boy,a tired looking brunette with a camera around his neck, sat down next to Eddie.

“Physical threat.” Freckles explained. “Everyone is saying you’re the cutest newcomer of the year. And yet…” his voice trailed off.   
“And yet what?”   
“And yet you’re being treated like a total…” he tapped the side of his head. “Ugh. What’s the word?”   
“Anti-threat,” tired camera answered for him.   
“Yes! Perfect word choice.” Freckles wiggled his texting thumbs. “Enter that.”

Fish eyes nodded obediently. He pulled a phone from the side of his beat up backpack, slid out the keyboard, and began thumbing.   
“What’s he writing?” Eddie asked.   
“Who? Patrick?” asked Freckles, as if there were dozens of boys taking notes on this bizarre conversation. “He’s assisting me.”

Eddie nodded like that was super-interesting and then peered across the cafeteria. He was doting on her as a pale boy wearing a pastel pink sweater gestured animatedly to barker.

“The three of us are writing a book. Jon photographs everything, Patrick writes everything down, and I make sure we have enough material to write about.” Henry continued, his very hick-like accent getting more pronounced.

“Wow.” Eddie shook his hand. “Sounds… cool.”

“It’s gonna be one of those cell phone novels.” Patrick snapped his keyboard shut and then dropped it back into his backpack. “You know, like they have in Japan. Only this will be in English.”   
“Assumed.” Henry sighed, in a you-can’t-get-good-help-these-days sort of way. He sat on the table and playfully kicked a blue chair with his boots.

Patrick licked his lips and grinned, his dead eyes never changing. “I’m documenting his struggle.”

“Cool.” Eddie nodded, trying to be encouraging.   
Something about Henry, Jonathan, and Patrick reminded him of Vic’s line between ingenious and insane. Ingenuity inspired their dreams, and insanity gave them courage to pursue them. It was something Eddie wanted for himself. But he didn’t have any inspired dreams worth pursuing now that Richie had turned out to be a player who bolted when someone easier came along.…   
“I want to crush her too,” Henry said.

Eddie flushed. Had it really been obvious that he was glaring at him.

“We could team up, you know.” Henry’s blue eyes bored into Eddie’s.

“I don’t want revenge.” Eddie responded.

“Fine. Then just a friend.” Henry offered.

“That could work.” Eddie ran a hand through frizzing brown hair.

Henry nodded once at Patrick and Jonathan.   
The dutiful assistant pushed aside the abandoned gluten-free lunches, reached inside his backpack, and pulled out a cream-colored sheet of paper. He slapped it down on the table and stepped aside to let Henry explain.   
“Promise you will never flirt with Will Byers, hook up with Will Byers, or fail to pummel anybody who hooks up up with Will Byers.”

“Who the hell is Will Byers?” Eddie snapped.

“My little brother and Henry’s sorta boyfriend.” Jonathan mumbled.

“Lately he’s been checking out PTs when he thinks I’m not looking.” Henry scanned the thinning lunch crowd like a searchlight. “What he doesn’t realize is—”   
“He’s always looking,” Patrick said, typing. Eddie began to get a bad feeling about the two boys opposite him.

“I’m always looking.” Henry tapped his temple. “So, sign the document stating that you won’t violate my trust, and I’ll give you a lifetime of loyalty in return.”

Patrick stood over Eddie, clicking a silver-and-red pen—the ballpoint Eddie would use, should he choose to accept this offer.

Eddie fake-read the document to give the appearance that he wasn't the kind of chump who signs things without reading them, even though she was. His eyes sped across the words while his mind searched for a reason to walk away from this unusual proposition. But Eddie didn’t have much experience in the friend-making business. For all he knew, this was how it was done. Plus he’d feel bad if he left Jonathan to deal with them.

“Looks good to me,” he stated, grabbing the ballpoint from Patrick’s fingers. He signed and dated the document.

“School ID.” Patrick mumbled.

“Uh why?” Eddie asked.

“I have to notarize.” He pushed his hair back.

Eddie tossed his Merston High ID on the table.   
“Nice picture,” Patrick mumbled, jotting down the necessary information.   
“Thanks,” Eddie mumbled back, studying his expression in the tiny laminated square. He was glowing like a jack-o’-lantern with a candle inside. Because he had been thinking about him. Wondering when they’d run into each other… what it would be like… what he would say… If only Eddie could go back in time and tell the lovestruck boy in the laminated square what he knew now…

Patrick returned the ID and then began connecting a digital camera to a portable printer. Seconds later a photo of Eddie, minus the candlelit glow, was being clipped to the corner of the document and filed inside the backpack.   
“Congratulations, Eddie Criss. Welcome to the fold,” Henry said. “There are two rules I’d like to share with you.” He waited for Patrick’s thumbs to make contact with his keyboard. “Number one: Friends come first.”

Patrick typed.

Eddie nodded. He couldn’t agree more.

“And number two.” Henry pinched a grape off a cluster. “Always fight for your love.” With that, he drew his arm back like a warrior and whipped a grape across the cafeteria. It bounced off Beverly’s chunky turquoise highlights.

Eddie burst out laughing. Henry launched another missile.

Beverly stood and glared at her opponent. Drawing her arm back, she—

“Duck!” Jonathan shouted, pulling Patrick, Henry, and Eddie to the floor.

The boys laughed themselves a side stitch as a hailstorm of mayo-coated luncheon meat smacked the table above them.   
It wasn’t the first time Eddie had been in the center of a lunchroom drama that afternoon. But it was the first time he had fun with it.


	9. Sparks Fly

Mike rushed as inconspicuously as possible to the geography room. He ignored how itchy the wool slacks he was wearing made his legs because it was important that he sit in the corner, away from everyone. He didn’t have to be a genius to know that the monster sighting rumors and shocking that poor, frankly cute, boy was bad news.

The bell  _ bwoooped _ . The halls buzzed with freshly fed normies searching for their fourth-period classrooms. Mike, mega-paces ahead of the pack, hurried into room 203 for his first geography class. So far, school life hadn’t gone as planned, but at least he was living it.   
“No!” He bemoaned. The desks were arranged in a circle! No dark corners. No back rows. No place to hide! His pre-lunch reapplication of Fierce & Flawless would be his only cover.   
“This can’t be happening,” he mumbled under his breath while trying to assess which part of the circle would be the least conspicuous.

Tiny sparks of electricity shot from his fingertips and sizzled up the metal spine of his mint blue sketch covered binder. He opted for a seat in front of the windows instead of one facing them, to avoid the sun’s revealing rays.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” “An above-average-looking boy entered the room. He was dressed in a very 80s colored hawaiian shirt, black jeans, and converse His demeanour seemed more cardigans and dnd than middle aged dad. What he lacked in style he made up for with sass.

He finally looked in Mike’s direction and smiled almost sweetly in his direction, making Mike’s heart soar. “I didn’t even see you there. I’m Mike Wheeler. You?”

Mike made a squeaking sound before he got his voice under control and said “Mike Hanlon.” 

With one hand in his pocket and the other clutching a leather bound journal (because cool guys take a lot of notes), he walked over to Mike, staring at the maps on the walls. “Is this seat taken?” he asked, running a hand through his faintly curly brown hair.

Mike shook his head. Did he really have to sit right next to him?

He extended his hand for a shake.

Mike, afraid of sparking, responded with a smile-nod. Mike tapped his shoulder with his hovering hand, as if that had been the intention all along.   
_ Bzzzt _ .

“Well, well.” He shook his wrist and looked amused. “Aren’t you the little firecracker?”

_ Why does the universe hate me so?  _ Mike’s smile barely faltered.

He began focusing on the introduction to keep himself from freaking out. The class began to fill up quickly, and two pastel clad teens, in mid-conversation, filled the empty seats beside him.   
“I swear,” said the one with the pink sweater, his lips tight against his teeth like someone embarrassed to talk with new braces. “The caf has nothing good for jewish vegans.” He shook two pills from a bottle labeled IRON COMPLEX, and swallowed them without water. His eyes were ringed in black and hot pink eye makeup that was pretty smudged.

“Why not give the mashed potatoes a burl?” asked his friend, a dark-skinned raven haired girl with an Australian accent. Dressed in a long pastel purple jumper skirt, a tight silver shirt with a grape juice carton cartoon on it and matching gloves, Mike just loved the contrast between her hair and her clothing. His fingers itched to draw her.

“I loathe garlic,” said Vegan, crossing his legs to reveal a pair of pink knee-high lace-up combat boots that Lady Gaga would go gaga for.   
“Not as much as you loathe mirrors, mate,” joked the Australian as she pushed back a tangle of rope and bead bracelets, rolled down the gloves, and slathered her dry arms with coconut-scented body lotion.   
“Help me, Patty.” Vegan insisted. The Australian snapped the cap back on her cream, leaned toward her friend, and began wiping Vegan’s cheek with her thumb.

“It’s not easy,” she whispered. “You’ve got lippy where your blush should be. Looks like you were caught in a paintball bingle.”

They burst out laughing.

Mike returned to his textbook to keep from staring. Even though he wanted to stare forever. Their breezy banter was a comfort of friendship—a comfort Mike longed to have.   
“Faster,” murmured the Vegan. “Before he sees me like this!”   
There was only one other he in the class, and he was sitting beside Mike scribbling what looked like a story in his journal.

Mike looked straight ahead and accidentally locked eyes with the ridiculously cute boy entering the room. It was the same one he had been trying not to stare at during lunch. But it was impossible not to. He was wearing a picture of his grandfather Victor right there on his T-shirt under the baggy denim jacket he seemed to cling to. He was either a RAD or a RAD lover. Either way, it meant he had a chance.

“’Scuse me, Sweetie,” said the Australian, waking Mike from his daydream.

“It’s Mike.” Mike offered.

“Be glad she didn’t accidentally call you Sheila.” The pastel boy joked.

“Right-o,” Patty said with a sweet smile. “Anyway, Mike, it looks like you’re pretty into makeup, and I was wondering if my Stan could borrow some.”   
“Um, sure,” Mike dug into his backpack and pulled out the gameboy makeup pouch marked EYELINER. “Take your pick.”

“This is all eyeliner?” Stan gasped, lips pressed against his teeth.

Mike nodded, unsure whether he should feel pride or shame.

Eddie, the boy he’d shocked in the cafeteria, hurried in after the teacher and grabbed the seat across from Mike. He smiled cordially. Or was that normie for _ I’m onto you _ ?

The teacher, a woman with short curly blond hair and a turquoise sweater set, clapped. “Let’s begin!” She drew a big circle on the blackboard and tapped her long stick of chalk in the center. “This is our world. It’s round, just like the configuration of your desks. And I intend to show you how—” The chalk snapped in half and shot across the room.

“OW!” The boy across from Mike yelped. Mike could see the chalk laying on his desk.

“Oh lord. Are you okay Will.”

“I’m fine miss Albright. It spooked me more than anything.” Will mumbled.

_Will. Will and Mike. Mike and Will. Mill. Wike. Michael B._ _Like the actor._ No matter how Mike thought it, their names sounded wonderful together.

Over the next 45 minutes, Mike found out that Stan had a crush on Mike next to him. Who he could have because despite how cute he is, he had nothing on the sweetheart across from him. And that Eddie’s RAD-ar must have been beeping because she could not stop staring at Mike, who would not stop smacking elbows with Mike. It took an incredible amount of control for Mike to keep himself from lighting up like Vegas. And it felt like he wasn’t breathing because of it.

Finally the bell bwooped and Mike raced from the classroom to the restroom. He burst into the bathroom, locked himself in the first stall, and let it loose. He was thankful that the bathroom was empty, because energy—charged by making eye contact with Will, being poked at by other Mike, and being stared down by Eddie—flew from his fingers in a powerful bout. He flushed the toilet several times to cover the sound.

Relieved and drained, he opened the door with a sigh. Stan was standing right outside the stall with a worried look on his face, with Patty a step behind him.

“Sounds like you’re not feeling well.” Patty said. “I have gas-x if you need it.” Something about how worried she seemed warmed Mike’s heart.

“I’m fine. Something didn’t agree with me at lunch.” He lied.

“Yeah. Sometimes the mushroom pizza gives me the rumblies.” She agreed.

Stan held up the makeup bag and said “You forgot this.”

“Oh, thanks.” Mike placed his hand where his heart would be. “I’d be lost without this.”   
“Why?” Patty twirled a silk-covered finger around one of her black curls. “You’re so handsome. You don’t need all that makeup.” Stan nodded in agreement.   
“Thanks.” Mike’s insides swelled. “You two are so pretty.” Mike gave a sheepish smile and softly said “It’s just that people tend to pick on me for my skin, so the makeup’s kinda a safety blanket.”

“Same.” Patty rolled off her gloves and slathered some coconut scented lotion on her arms. “The air up here is so cold it dries out my arms. I’m practically coral.” Stan snorted.

“Her room is practically a sephora.”

“Hark who’s talking. Your room is like if Dollskill exploded inside of Harajuku.” Patty snarked.

“Dollskill?” 

“Australian company.” Stan explained. “She only compares it to that because I have so many cashmere and wool sweaters.” Stan scoffed, smiling and crossing his arms over his sweater. “I have shit circulation and get cold very easily.”

“Are you always cold too?” Mike asked Patty. “Is that why you wear those gloves?”   
“Nah.” Patty waved away the notion. “Just dry.” She turned to Stan. “Hey, are we going to the spa this weekend?”   
“You mean, am I giving you another guest pass?” Stan fired back exuberantly.   
“C’mon, luv, that place is so dang exy, I can’t afford my own membership. And if I don’t get in for a soak soon, my skin will turn to cactus.” The two devolved into another round of playful arguing before Patty came up with an idea.

“What if we brought Mike with us this Saturday?” Patty asked. “Then he’ll have the confidence to steal Will away from Henry’s grasp.”

“Scuse me?” Mike startled.

“I saw ya starin at him. He’s a sweetie and he deserves better n that hick from hell.” Patty assured. “He ain’t got nothin on my Audra though.”

“Audra?”

“Her girlfriend.” Stan offered as an explanation. “She’s a British transfer student. Red hair, pink gingham dress, pink fur coat?” Mike recognized the description as a girl in his biology class.

“Oh her? She’s really nice. She lent me some paper in biology.” Mike said.

“Wait you’re not shocked or weirded out?” Patty asked.

“Should I? I mean, you figured out that I like Will.” Mike said. “Not sure what the word is though.”

“Well I’m lesbian. We can talk more later.” Patty said. “So are you in?”

Mike smiled. “Yeah.” 


	10. Lip Bomb

On friday, Henry greeted Eddie with a high five. “Survived your first week of classes at Merston High.” His sun freckled cheeks were the same rosy hue as Eddie’s leather jacket. He was wearing an off yellow and pea green sweatshirt paired with yet another pair of severely distressed white skinny jeans and the world's ugliest rain boots. He was a welcome burst of color on a rainy afternoon.

“I know.” Eddie hooked his pin and patch covered backpack over his shoulder. “It actually kinda flew.”

“You sound surprised.” Jonathan noted in his usual tired tone as the four continued down the crowded hallway.

“I  _ am _ surprised.” Eddie defended as he zipped up his jacket as they got closer to the door. “I was the victim of a kiss and run and that can make for a slow week. But I actually had fun.” He smiled, recalling the food fight with Beverly, late-night e-mail marathons with Jonathan, and the futile stakeouts during which he and Vic spied on Richie’s house. There was no suspicious activity—or any activity at all. Except for what Eddie assumed was Nancy’s boyfriend sneaking in on Wednesday.

“Correction.” Patrick interjected. “Richie was the victim of a kiss and run.”

Eddie’s hands twitched and he tensely whispered “And how is he the victim?” It was all about lying low after what he and Jonathan referred to as the Monday Melodrama, which had quickly morphed into the Monday Melodreddie. And so far he had done a great job. Because whipping an atlas at Richie head while he was flirt-touching that Mike kid in geography would have been very satisfying. And beating him with the Eiffel Tower snow globe while he kissed Beverly in French class would have been  _ très _ cathartic. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d been completely calm and detached. So the fact that Patrick could say he was the victim almost pissed Eddie off.

“Eddie’s right. He’s the victim.” Henry said.

“No, Richie is.” Patrick pointed ahead. “Look!” Eddie and Jon stared at Patrick. Ahead was a sea of annoyed teenagers wanting to get out but unable to. Only two people in the entire group seemed happy: Beverly and the tanned boy wearing big, dark sunglasses and a yellow stocking cap, because they were making out. “Look!”

“Oh no.” Eddie breathed, covering his mouth.

“Told you.” Patrick said smugly. “Richie got kiss and runned.”

“Damn. Poor Tozier.” Henry said.

“I- I have to go tell Nancy to prepare for Richie to come home in tears again.” Jon said, backing away and running towards a girl wearing a critical role hoodie over a pastel rainbow sweater and lilac tights.

“Okay, who is that?” Eddie demanded.

“Mister haystack himself. Benjamin Hanscom. Or Ben. Beverly’s boyfriend.” Patrick listed off. “His mom takes him on excavations and even just regular trips to greece every summer and brings him back a week into the school year.” He took a breath and continued. “They’re totally exclusive whenever he’s in town.” 

“Looks like Richie’s going to need a new date to the dance.” Henry pointed out.

“Okay and? I do to.”

“Hey!” Henry lit up. “You should go drop a lip bomb on him, you know, to get back at Beaverly for making out with Richie.”   
“Ha!” Eddie snorted at the absurdity. Everyone turned to look, Beverly and Ben included. So much for lying low.

“Do it.” Henry prodded.

“No way.” Eddie shot back. “You want revenge, you do it!”

“I have a boyfriend. You don’t.” Henry pointed out.

“Damn it. You’re right.” Eddie grumbled.

“Hey, Eddork!” Beverly smirked. “I’ve been looking for you.” 

Projecting Rihanna fabulousness in brown glitter kneesocks, a form fitting denim mini dress, and gold wedges, Beverly had the attention of everyone around them. Even Henry, who glared at his nemesis with a mix of disdain and envy.   
“Why?” Eddie asked, with egg like composure, even though he felt as if he could crack at any moment.

“You can have trashmouth back.” She said, spritzing herself with amber scented perfume. “I’m through with him.” Eddie could feel anger simmering in his veins. He couldn’t believe what an unholy motherfucker had pulled on Richie.

“Oh wait.” Beverly straightened up, her clear blue eyes tracking something in the distance. Eddie glanced over his shoulder and saw Richie approaching with a bouquet of ceramic flowers and a guitar. His glasses hid his eyes but Eddie could see the cocky smile that had enamoured him.

“I may be through with him”—Beverly licked her glossy lips—“but he’s obviously not through with me.” She pouted and sighed. “Poor guy. Look at those pathetic flowers. No one is going to choose geek when they could have Greek.” Beverly mussed Eddie’s hair condescendingly. “Except you.” She laughed. Something in Eddie snapped. He marched past Beverly and grabbed Ben by his hoodie and pulled him down to his height. He planted his lips on Ben’s own gloss softened lips.

A collective gasp let Eddie know he wasn’t making this up. Then Ben actually started kissing back. All Eddie could think about was whether or not Richie actually cared. Suddenly he could hear Henry cheering him on. Eddie pulled away and whispered “Sorry.”

“Me too.” Ben mumbled back, stepping away.

“Bravo.” Beverly applauded. “But next time, don’t look so constipated.” She sounded unaffected but her moist eyes gave her away.

Eddie didn’t care. He searched her hands for Richie’s flowers but didn’t see them. Her heavily ringed hands held nothing. Richie had also conspicuously disappeared from the crowd. Eddie fought his way outside as Ben pretended to faint badly. Everything was foggy and oppressive outside instead of cool. He just happened to glance down and saw the shattered flowers and a tag. He bent down to pick it up and saw his own name on them. Tears finally dripping, Eddie knelt down and began picking up the pieces of the flowers.

“Oh no.” Jonathan said somewhere above him. 

“They were for me.” Eddie mumbled. “I broke Richie’s heart because he broke mine.” 

“Eddie I’m so..” 

“Save it Jon.” Eddie sniffled. “I feel horrible for hurting him, but he hurt me first.” Once all of the pieces were gathered into a ziplock he’d found in his backpack, he got up and walked to Vic’s jeep.


	11. Bolts and All

Mike popped open his astrodome sized, forest colored umbrella, and hurried into the downpour. Despite his heavy application of fierce and flawless aqua— the waterproof line—daylight shone through the emerald canopy and cast a green glow on his hand.

_ Pfft _

Mike longed to share his amusements with the kids in the back of the pearlescent range rover. But he couldn’t. They could never know his dad built him. And his parents, watching from the doorway, were silent reminders of that fact.

He turned to wave. “Bye.”

Will and Jessica waved back, the worry behind their eyes undermining the smiles on their faces.

“Have fun at the library,” Jessica called over a boom of thunder as she tightened her black scarf.

“Thanks,” Mike answered, as a tiny spark of electricity escaped his fingers and scurried up the umbrella pole. It was his first lie. And it felt even worse than he had imagined. Dark. Heavy. Lonely. But if his parents or Grandparents knew he was going to a normie spa with Patty, Stan, Audra, and two electrifying teens he had seen around school but hadn’t met, they would stress about skin exposure. And when Stan mentioned that kids have been lying to their parents for centuries, Mike decided to give it a try. After all, Will and Jess wanted him to fit in with the normies. So if this was what normies did…

Patty stuck her face out of the front passenger window. Her black tresses were pinned atop her head by what looked like Sailor Moon hair sticks, and her angelic features had been scrubbed clean of makeup. “G’day, Mr. and Mrs. Hanlon.” She waved, revealing a long pair of purple leather gloves.

“Hi, Patty,” they called back. They looked instantly relieved.

Mike grinned. His parents seemed to know everyone on the street. And soon he would too.

“How are your parents liking this weather?” Jess asked.

“Lovin’ it.” Patty smiled. Mike momentarily felt jealous of Patty’s ability to walk around makeup free and not be called an alien. But that faded because Patty was genuinely one of his closest friends besides Stan and Audra. He hurried into the car and struggled a bit to close the umbrella without soaking Stan or the seats.

“I love your car Audra.” Mike breathed. Audra preened and let out a strange purring sound.

“Thanks! Bill’s baby brother and Max helped me find all the parts to build it myself.” Audra smiled into the rearview mirror.

“I still think it looks like if Barbie and Simply Nailogical had a baby.” The dark girl with simply electrifying teal and gold streaks in the back row asserted.

“Or if Kool Kat and Lady Rainicorn fused!” Stan pointed out.

“I-I think it looks like if puh-Pearl was a car.” The freckly and pale redhead next to the dark girl offered.

“Looks like the car equivalent of a Simply Nailogical and Pretty Pastel Please collab.” Patty teased. Everyone burst into giggles. Mike smiled over the backseat.

“I’m Mike.” He offered.

“Beverly.” Now that Mike had a good look at her, he could see that her eyes looked sad and matched her crystal blue sundress. He wondered what could make such a pretty girl that upset. “I didn’t know Dr. & Dr. Hanlon had kids.”

“They homeschooled me for a long time.” Mike explained. “The chickens and the sheep were my only friends for a very long time.”

“I just adore the wool from your farm.” Patty gushed. “It’s so much softer than the wool from literally anywhere else.”

“That’d be because my mom brushes the sheep often and makes sure their wool is healthy.” Mike explained.

“Hey Mikey. Did you meet Bill back there?” Audra asked.

“Bill?” Mike questioned. The redhead looked away from the window and smiled. He had an old school hollywood meets Romantic Movement Writer aesthetic going for him. Mike caught a glimpse of a green carnation in his button hole. “Oscar Wilde right?” Mike asked, pointing at the carnation. Bill lit up.

“You know Oscar Wilde?” Bill asked excitedly.

“Uh duh? He wrote a Picture of Dorian Gray and basically said that any character compared to Antinous Wild or Achilles was most definitely gay!” Mike said excitedly. Bill laughed loudly and smiled wolfishly.

“Who’s your favorite romantic writer? Shelley, Shelley, Hugo, or Wilde?” Bill asked. “Personally I like Mary Shelley because she was always so defensive of Frankenstein, not the drop out, his kid basically.” Mike’s insides felt warm. Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley was his Auntie Mary!

“Mary Shelley’s up there for me but by far, my favorite is Victor Hugo.” Mike said.

“Hunchback or Les Mis?” Bill asked.

“Both.” Mike said confidently. “Because Les Miserables has the June rebellion, which I love reading about, and Hunchback saved the Notre Dame Cathedral.” 

“Good answer.” Bill nodded.

“Favorite fantasy writer go!” Beverly said.

“Hans Christian Andersen.” Bill said.

“Tolkien.” Mike decided.

“Nice.” Beverly nodded. “I like Rick Riordan and James Patterson. Don’t like how he portrays Poseidon and Medusa though. Because why would a priestess of Athena and protector of women attack Annabeth?” Pretty and Smart. Just my kind of friend. Mike’s grin was huge.

“Hey, Stan.” Bill leaned forward. “Any chance you can turn down the heat? My turkey jerky is melting to gravy back here.”

Mike smiled. It was stifling.   
“Maybe you should take off your scarf,” he suggested, trying to show them he wasn’t too shy to jump right in.   
“Ahhhhhh,” Patty hollered. “No, he didn’t!”

Everyone burst out laughing except Bill, who glared at Mike with his pale blue eyes and growled a soft warning that seemed to say “Watch it, newbie.”

“Sorry,” Mike muttered, wishing he could take back whatever it was that Bill found so offensive. “I was just trying to help.” He pinched the wool on his sleeping bag of a sweater. “I’m superhot in this turtleneck, so I was just thinking maybe you were—” Beverly’s gold platform wedge slammed into the back of his and Stan’s seats. “Ouch!” He sparked.

Beverly and Bill exchanged a quick glance.

Mike quickly sat on his hands to smother the surge. “Why’dja kick me?”

“I was trying to stop you from embarrassing yourself even more,” Beverly explained.

“Huh?” Mike said, leaning down to grab his fallen phone.

“Beverly would know.” Stan harrumphed, turning up the volume on his headphones, which Mike could hear Lady Gaga playing out of.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You have a lot of experience with embarrassing yourself, that’s all,” Stan said, glaring at the back of Audra’s seat.

The squeaking windshield wipers were the only sound in the car.

“Care to explain?” Beverly asked, like someone who already understood.

Stan’s hazel eyes found Beverly in the rearview mirror. “It means you were making out with my crush in public all week.” Oh Shhhit. Mike quickly looked down at his phone.

“Do you really think I was kissing frogface for me?!” Beverly said, disgusted and hurt. “No. I did it for you.”

“Um. Who’s frogface?” Mike asked.

“Mike Wheeler.” Bill explained. 

“Stan, that Eddie prick was moving in on him. I had to do something.” Beverly argued.

“What. Is he somehow better looking than me?” Stan asked, his voice full of tears.

“No!” Everyone in the car yelled. Mike would argue that Eddie was cuter but Stan was more than cute enough.

“Mike’s an idiot if he doesn’t like you Stan.” Mike said. “Eddie’s nice, yeah. But is he as funny or as outgoing as you?”

“No.” Stan said calming down.

“Exactly. Any guy would be lucky to have you.” Mike assured. Stan dried his eyes and smiled at Mike.

“You know, you’re right.” Stan said. “I mean did you see how sweaty his forehead got after that kiss? I could see my reflection in his forehead.”

“You wish.” Patty joked.

Everyone laughed.

Mike felt like an intruder again, so he quickly lost himself to the brit-poppy sound of Maya the Psychic.

Soon the range rover stopped and everyone rushed out. Mike followed quietly behind everyone, unsure of himself. Bill dropped back and tapped Mike’s shoulder. Mike pulled out a bud.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry if we made you feel left out. Stan’s liked Mike for a while and Beverly doesn’t exactly know how to kindly tell people to back off.” Bill explained. “She’s pretty used to getting her way.” 

“I get that.” Mike assured. “I just felt like I was intruding.” Bill nodded like he got it. 

“I get it.” Bill assured. “You know, Bev became my friend last year because Henry was making fun of my stutter.”

“Oh wow. That’s fucking shitty.”

“Yeah. And he bullies Stan for being gay and Jewish, when he’s got this thing with Will Byers, who is both gay and jewish.” Bill confided.

“And Eddie and Jonathan hang out with him?” Mike asked aghast.

“I hear that the only reason Jonathan hangs out with Henry is because Henry’s blackmailing him so that he doesn’t leak things about Will’s and his sister.” Bill said nonchalantly. “And so far this year, Henry hasn’t been his usual racist antisemite self. But that doesn’t mean Eddie wasn’t a dick for making out with Ben. He’s so devoted to Beverly that it’s unfair Eddie compromised their relationship.”

“Oh jeesums.” Mime breathed.

“Yuh. Come on. Before Bev and Stan forget we’re here.”

 

They eventually caught up to the girls and Stan as the receptionist was explaining to Audra about the rat whiskers.

“It’s 100% proven to dramatically reduce scars in a month.” She said, in a very blissed out tone, almost like she was stoned.

“Huh.” Mike mumbled.

“Yeah but it’s damn exy.” Patty reminded. Mike winced and stuck close to Bill. Stan, Bill, and Mike walked through the door to the men’s locker rooms and Mike immediately began panicking internally. All of these men were walking around in robes that barely covered anything.

“Bill, I don’t think I can do this.” Mike whispered.

“What do you mean?” Bill asked confused.

“I- I’m not comfortable showing my body.” Mike admitted softly. Bill nodded in understanding.

“I get it. Stan can lead you to the tanning bed.” He straightened up as a lady walked up.

“Mr. Denbrough,” an older blonde lady said, “I’m Theresa, your wax technician.”

“Wait? Where’s Anya?” Bill asked, his blue eyes darting in panic.   
“Wellness seminar,” Theresa stated, and then splayed an arm, pointing Bill down the hall toward the treatment rooms. “Shall we?”

Bill pinched the top of his robe shut and hesitantly followed her down the hall.

“The tanning bed is in room thirteen,” Stan explained, his teeth chattering. “Read the operating instructions before you get naked. It’s cold in there. I’m going to steam.”

“Okay, thanks.” Mike smiled, grateful that he didn’t have to undress in front of them.

He went in and was hit with the smell of sweat and sunshine. And it was absolutely toasty in there, the opposite of what Stan had warned. 

After reading the instructions, Mike’s suspicions were confirmed. Fifteen minutes on the bed would not solve his problems. His skin wouldn’t be able to produce enough melanin to make himself look human. And it sure as hell wouldn’t help him win Will’s heart. But it would give him that same feeling the sun had back at Mount Hood.

Mike quickly relieved himself of his school uniform looking clothing and minutes later laid his head on the pillow. He could just imagine being able to be out and about without the layers of makeup with Will. Being at the beach, wearing swim trunks, talking about their difficult lives, being normal.

_ Ahhhhhhhh… _ __   
These visions seemed so real, so possible, that he could practically smell them. Smoldering marshmallows left to blacken while their lips expressed love… smoke pirouetting all around them… the burned-cardboard stink of singed hair…   
AHHHHHHHHHH!   
“Oh no!” Mike shot upright, whacking his head on the roof of the tanning bed. He ripped the stickers off her eyes and saw ribbons of smoke rising from her ankle seams. His bolts were spraying like frayed live wires.

He smacked the yellow button, hoping it’d turn the machine off but instead it added an additional 10 minutes.

“Stop! Stop!” He smacked the smoldering seams, but panic made him spark even more.

Mike reached for the black cord in the wall and yanked. But it held tight. He tried again. And again…   
Sparks were shooting everywhere. All of a sudden, a flash of electricity shot from his hand, snaked along the cord, and slithered into the outlet.   
_ Pop! _ _   
_ The room went completely black. Mike could hear terrified shrieking from what sounding like Beverly and a pained yowl from Bill.

“Is something burning?” asked a concerned female.   
Paying little mind to his stinky seams, Mike speed-dressed, then slipped into the dark hallway. After following the red EXIT signs to the back door, he raced out into the pouring rain without a single word to anyone.

Outside, steam billowed around his sparking body like some cheap dry-ice effect in a B horror movie. But he refused to cry. After all, he’d gotten her day at the spa. He’d breathed it. Lived it. Smelled it. Felt it. And (unfortunately) he would remember it forever.   
Mike’s cell rang. It was Patty. Then Stan. Then Audra. Then Patty. Then Stan again. He let the calls go to voicemail.   
After a soaking six-mile walk, Mike turned onto Radcliffe Way. His limbs were loose and his energy, zapped. Still, he refused to cry. He had to save his stamina for the inevitable lecture he would get from his parents and grandfather. You went where? You did what to their power? What if someone saw you? What were you thinking, walking so far on such a low charge? Do you know how dangerous that was? Not just for you but for all the RADs! Michael, how many times…   
Just then a green BMW SUV sped by, its tires parting a puddle that rose up like the Red Sea. One wave smacked the passenger-side door. The other wave drenched Mike.   
This time he cried.


	12. “Eyes on the Prize, Especially With The Guys”

“Eds, are you sure you don’t want to come camping with us?” Sam asked over the obnoxious whine of the air mattress inflating. “Fresh air might do your lungs and broken heart some good.” Eddie looked up from the flowers he was piecing back together.

“Nuh uh.” Eddie smiled. “I think I’m going to just catch up on some reading. My copy of Simon Vs The Homo-Sapien Agenda came in.” Eddie could see Darryl struggling in the yard with the gigatent. “After I fix these.”

“What even happened to them?” Sam asked.

“I dropped them on my way to Vic’s car.” Eddie lied.

“A crying shame because they’re so pretty.” Sam lamented.

“How do I look?” Vic was on the bottom steps of the stairs looking like a bleach blonde James Dean if James Dean wore severely distressed skinny jeans.

“Like if James Dean bleached his hair.” Eddie said.

“Good. I don’t want to give the wrong idea.” Vic said, “I’m only going out with Leo to make Moose jealous.”

“Well, I guess the James Dean look is exactly what you want.” Eddie decided.

“Go put on different pants.” Darryl demanded. “Those pants will give him the wrong idea.”

“But Dad! It’s like a million degrees in here!” Vic stamped his foot like a child. “And the only other pants I picked out only go with boots.”

“Borrow mine.” Darryl said. “But change your pants.”

“Great idea!” Vic exclaimed as if he hadn’t already thought of that. He winked at Eddie to show he had.

“You are such a weasel,” Eddie teased as he followed his brother and collapsed on his bed just below the Janis Joplin poster over his bed. While Vic’s room screamed Vic Criss, fashionista extraordinare, Eddie’s room very much reflected Eddie. Posters of punk bands from the 70s to now, king sized mattress on an ikea frame, battery powered fairy lights strung up to use less energy, and countless posters of old horror movies and of course, his Grantaire poster from his musicals phase. 

“You have to go for what you want in life, Eds,” Vic explained, forcing his foot into the stiff leather boot. “Eyes on the prize, especially with guys.” He nodded his head toward Richie’s dimly lit bedroom window.

“Nothing going on there.” Eddie assured miserably. “I fucked everything up by kissing Ben Hanscom to get back at him when all Richie was going to do was give me some ceramic flowers.”

“You’re a foolish idiot sometimes Spaghetts.” Vic sighed. “You give up way too easily and you don’t fight for the guys you like.”

Headlights streaked across the log walls of his room. “My B-list chariot awaits.”

“Try not to be too sexy,” Eddie teased.

“Only if you try to be more sexy.” vic waved a hand over Eddie’s Bendy and the Ink Machine sweats, like airport security. “This is not acceptable.”

“Oh piss off Vicky. I’ve seen your closet. I saw those Alice Angel sweats that go with these.” Eddie retorted, smiling.

“Yeah because you get this kicked puppy look when we don’t have matching pajamas.” He shot back, spraying what smelled like black currant perfume from their mom’s dresser on himself. “You should think about getting out for a while. If the boredom doesn’t get you, the heat will.” He snapped. “Victor out.” A sultry mist of Black currant perfume lingered in his stead.

Eddie lay on the bed, tossing his Warm Bodies pillow into the air and trying to catch it before it landed on his face. Was this really his new life?

He waited for the clomp of Vic’s slightly dragging feet to fade away. Honestly, Eddie still felt bad Vic still had trouble with that leg. Six year old Eddie didn’t know that Nine year old Vic had dislocated his knee catching him when he fell out of the tree and Vic seemed to have always hated showing weakness in front of Eddie. So neither of them had said anything to Sam or Darryl and now Vic’s knee always hurt him.

_ Bwaah bwaah! _

Eddie jumped at the sound. He settled down when he realized it was just the stupid ringtone Patrick had set for Henry.

“What.” Eddie grumbled.

“What to you too. Anything going on?” Eddie could just hear the godawful skrillex at the other end.

“Nothing. I was about to take a shower.” Eddie grumbled.

“Bit early for that isn’t it?” Henry joked.

“You’re disgusting Hank.” Eddie deadpanned. “What are you doing?” Eddie wondered. “I thought you and Will were hanging out. What happened to sneaking into Hereditary at the Cineplex?”

“Nah, his mom and step dad roped him into family game night with Janis and Jonathan.”

“Janis?” Eddie asked, confused.

“His sister’s full name.” Henry added. “Plus my old man’s being a douche and grounded me cause one of the pigs got hurt and is enforcing curfew because of that monster sighting.” Aaand there it was.

“Was it Roo? Or Maggie?” The music was replaced by clacking sounds.

“Twyla actually.” Henry grumbled. “Damn sow keeps getting herself stuck in the fence.”

“Explain this whole monster thing,” he said, finally showing some interest. People at school had been talking about an incident at Mount Hood High, but he hadn’t given it any serious attention. After all, they’d been talking about monsters. Besides, nothing could be scarier than the girls at Garfield Middle, so why panic? But parents keeping kids indoors made it sort of seem real… almost. “Is it actually legit?”

“My dad thinks so. Or I think he does. He might’ve just been looking for a reason to keep his favorite punching bag home and miserable.” 

“Mine too,” said a familiar voice.

“Patrick?”

“Hey, Eddo.”

“When did you get on the phone?” Eddie asked, wondering if he’d missed that detail.

“He’s in on all my calls.” Again with that damn book.

“Okay. Where were we?”

“Monsters. My ma even made Avery cancel her sleepover with her dweeb friends.”

“There are all kinds of rumors floating around, but I go with Will’s story because he is super into this stuff.”

Click clack click clack click clack…

“He says that there are families of monsters that live in Hells Canyon, about two hundred miles from here. They drink and bathe in Snake River and feed in the Seven Devils Mountains. In the summer the canyon gets so hot they migrate west to the ocean, traveling only at night or on super-foggy mornings.” What in the fresh hell?

“Okay?”

“That’s what Will says,” Henry explained. “Then when fall comes and things cool off, they go back. So it makes perfect sense that there was a sighting, because it’s peak migration season.”

“I shouldn’t have kissed Ben,” Mkke said sulkily, tired of the hokey monster talk. “It only made things worse.”

“What things?” Henry asked. “You and Richie weren’t in a relationship.”

“Harsh.” Eddie snorted. His new friend was right. This stalking-and-sulking routine was getting stale. It was the anti–fresh start.

“It’s true,” Patrick confirmed Henry’s allegation.

“I know.” Eddie pressed his cheek to the satiny Dark Shadows covers of his bed. “I totally fell for the shy-artist thing. He’s not even that cute.”

Click clack click clack click clack

”Thanks a lot,” said a boy’s voice.

Eddie jumped. “Ahhhhhhhh!” He whip-turned to face the thin silhouette in his darkened doorway. Adrenaline revved his heart like an outboard motor.

“Eddie, are you okay? Answer me!” henry shouted into the phone. “Is it the monster?”

Click clack click clack click clack…

“No. I’m fine.” Eddie placed a hand over his racing heart. “It’s just Jackson. I’ll call you back.”

He cut off the call and tossed his phone to the head of his bed.

“Was that Ben?” he asked.   
Basking in the warmth of his jealousy, Eddie decided to let him think it was.

“That’s irrelevant. What are you doing here?”

“The hobo couple in your yard let me in.” Richie dismissed. He looked behind Eddie. “Holy shit. Is that my room?”

“How should I know?” Eddie shot back.

“Aw, Eds. Are you spying on me?” Richie cooed.

“As if.” Eddie scoffed.

“Cute cute cute!” Richie cooed. “Anyways. I came over to tell you to stay away from Ben.”

“No need to worry.” Eddie shrugged. “I’m pretty sure Beverly would actually kill me if I so much as breathe in his direction.” Richie snickered and then caught sight of Eddie’s new book.

“No way. You have the new copy of Svthsa?” His eyes went round.

“Yeah? I saw the movie over the summer and wanted to read the book.” Eddie shrugged.

“Dude, my sister would kill for a copy of Leah on the offbeat.” Richie breathed. His upper lip started beading with sweat. “Is it always hot in here?”

“Yeah. Thermostat came broken. I do however have a fan in my closet.” Eddie said, staring up at the ceiling. He could see some of his stars peeling away at the corners.

“So what’s with you and Beverly?” Eddie blurted, as if his thoughts had been greased with cooking oil.

“What?” Richie’s head poked out of Eddie’s closet, Eddie’s american idiot the musical shirt stuck to Richie’s shoulder.

“You spent all week kissing her.” Eddie said.

“I think I’d remember kissing Molly Ringwald.” Richie said. “Considering Billiam and Stan the man would’ve decked me.”

“Well you were kissing her all week and I only kissed Ben to make you mad.” Eddie admitted, scrolling through his spotify.

“My blackouts are getting worse then.” Richie groaned. “Fucking great.”

“Blackouts?”

“Yeah. I’ve had blackouts since I was little.” Richie groaned, flopping onto the bed next to Eddie.

“Well shit Richie.” Eddie stared at him. “If you’ve been having blackouts, then how the hell were you making out with Beverly?”

“I don’t know but I do know I was apparently dating Willy boy’s sister all last year apparently.” 

“No way. You dated Janis?” Eddie cackled. “Barely taller than me, dresses like she’s Ilse Neumann Joan Jett and Janis Joplin all at once Janis?”

“Ellie. Everyone calls her Ellie except the Bowers gang.” Richie snapped. “Because Henry likes to ignore that Janis and Jane both make Ellie uncomfortable.” Eddie bit his tongue, feeling embarrassed for being so mean.

“I didn’t know. I’ve only heard her called Janis.” Eddie said.

“That’s another thing. Patrick’s a bully. He likes to bully Stan, Bill, and Lucas Sinclair with Billy Hargrove and Troy Harrington.” Richie said, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Something settled in Eddie’s stomach. He sat up too, noticing the height difference between the two of them.

“Oh. And Henry hangs out with him?”

“They’ve got a side thing going on.” Richie shrugged. “I’ve tried telling Will but Henry intercepts me everytime. Or I black out completely.” Richie reached to pull at his hair. “And the blacking out thing is getting worse. And it’s not like I can get help for it. Mom can barely handle Holly on her own.” He took handfuls of his own hair. “Mom depends on us to take care of Holly while she works.”

“Relax.” He gripped his wrist with mock urgency. “You’re not going anywhere. The good people of Derry need us!” Richie laughed softly.

“Eddie, my love. You’re the goofiest person I’ve ever met.” Richie said softly, leaning in.

“STAND BACK!” shouted a frantic woman. Richie pulled away. 

“What was that?”

“My homeless mom.”

“Can she see us?” He lifted the fan to his face.

“I don’t think so.” Eddie hurried to the stairs. “Mom, are you okay?”

“Only if you think getting chased by a giant timber wolf is okay,” she called back, “which your father obviously does.”

“Sammy, I’m telling you, it wasn’t a wolf,” Darryl reasoned.

Eddie and Richie burst out laughing.

“Hey, do you want to go to the September Semi with me?” he asked.

“Totally.” Melody smiled. “But only if I can wear this.” He struck a pose in his pajamas.

“Perfect.” He laughed.

Eddie stepped closer.… Richie stepped closer… and…

“THERE IT IS!” Sam screamed.

“Where?” Darryl chuckled. “I don’t see anything.” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“It’s probably Jarr.” Richie called. “Sometimes he gets loose.” He ran out and whistled. Lo and behold, an alaskan husky bound out and tackled Richie.

“I’ll call Jonathan.” Eddie laughed.


	13. RIP

Mike slept like a chicken with its head cut off—his brain and his body were on totally different programs. After five boring hours of restitching, during which Viktor and Will insisted on watching the news while Jessica stroked Mike’s hair humming a song from when she was in college, Mike was safely tucked between a fresh set of electromagnetic blankets with a warm current of power streaming through his bolts. His brain, however, was running in a panicked frenzy.

Sound bites of the lies he had told Jess and Will taunted him like a never-ending loop of carnival music.

Jess: Will! There’s something wrong with Mike!

Will: What happened? Are you hurt? (to Jessica) Is he hurt? (to Mike) Are you okay? Where’s your umbrella?

Mike: I’m okay, just a little cold and tired. (pause) Dad, did you know rodent whiskers remove scars?

Will: What? (to Jess) Is he hallucinating? (to Mike) Mike, can you understand me? Do you know where you are?

Mike: Yes, Dad.

Will: Where are the others? (He and Viktor lift him and carry him to his metal bed.)

Mike: They wanted to go to the movies after the library. I promised you I’d be home. So I left.

Jessica: And they didn’t drop you off first? (She flicks on the massive overhead light, pulls the arm, and positions it over Mike’s body, making it feel like an interrogation.)

Mike: Um, they offered, but I didn’t want them to be late.

Will: You could have called and asked to go with them. We would have said yes, especially if we knew you’d be walking home alone in the rain.

Viktor: I told you that sending him to a normie school was going to make him soft!

Mike: It wasn’t so bad. But I am kind of tired. Do you mind if I rest?

Will: (He dabs something cold and wet over her stitches.) Of course not. Go ahead. (mumbling to Jessica and Viktor) They almost look burned.

Jessica: (mumbling) Probably just frayed from the wind.   
  
While they assumed, worried, tended, stitched, and listened to the local news, Mike struggled to get back to that imaginary beach where he and Will were running freely. He finally arrived—but it was raining.

At some point he must have slept, because he couldn’t recall the moment his parents left and turned off the lights. But for the past fifteen minutes he had been lying in bed listening to the Glitterati burrow beneath sawdust, wondering how to explain his mysterious disappearance to the girls, Stan, and Bill. Lying to his parents about the spa trip was one thing. But how does a human electrical outlet sell the old dead-phone-battery excuse? It would definitely take some practice.

_ Hooot hooot. _

Mike switched off Carmen Electra and lifted his head.

_ Hooot hooot. _

Either there was an owl in the house or his parents were experimenting with ringtones.

He checked on the Glitterati, expecting them to be scratching at the glass in a fight-or-flight attempt to escape a winged predator. But they had fallen asleep, curled into mini white disco balls.

hooot hooot.

“Hello?” Jessica said, sounding concerned. Her voice was muffled by the wall. “I understand.… We’ll be there as fast as we can.” He got up carefully and padded over to the door, struggling to pull on his daredevil lounge pants.

“Mom?” He asked groggily. “What’s going on?” 

“Get dressed bubby.” Grandma Lizzie said. “We have to go to a meeting.”

“At the university? At” Mike squinted at the clock. “Four am?”

“No. Different kind of meaning darling.” Grandma said. “Go grab a hoodie. Quick.” Mike grabbed his ‘Never tell me the odds’ hoodie and pulled it on. As a precaution, Mike grabbed his History of Derry book. He ran back to his grandma and saw that she was wearing a red coat with a bulky collar.

“Your coat’s pretty grandma.” Mike said, absently as he tugged his boots on.

“Thank you bubby. Come on.” Lizzie took Mike’s hand and met up with his parents and grandpa Viktor. Mike got loaded in between Viktor and Lizzie.

“Dad, mom. What’s going on?” Mike asked.

“Mike.” Jess turned to face him. For a brief moment everything smelled like her gardenia body oil. “Remember we told you there were other people like us in Derry?”

“The RADs?”

“Exactly. When something happens in our community, we get together and discuss it.”

“And something happened?” Mike asked, as Lizzie lowered the window and welcomed the cool night air.

Jess nodded.

“Was it me?”

Jess nodded again.

Mike sparked. “What are they going to do to me?”

“Nothing!” Jess assured him. “No one knows it was you.”

“And no one ever will,” Viktor insisted.

”You’ll like our get-togethers. While the grown-ups talk, the kids get to mix and mingle with other RADs,” Jessica explained.

“Karen, Maggie, and I usually keep an eye on the younguns.” Grandma Lizzie winked. ‘Maggie?’ Mike mouthed to himself. “Miss Tozier and her sister Mrs. Wheeler.”

“My biology and english teachers?” Mike asked.

“Yup.” Jess smiled, turning back to face the road. “Ms. T and Mrs. Wheeler are wonderful youth counselors. They lead discussions about the issues you’re facing and—”

“Voices down, windows up,” Will whispered, turning onto Front Street. He pulled up to an empty stretch of curb beside a public park and shut off the engine. “Shhhhhhhh,” he hissed, with a finger to his lips.

The Riverfront carousel was directly across the street, its painted horses still and silent, like the rest of Derry. Traffic lights changed from red to green to yellow and then back to red, performing for an audience that never showed. Even the wind had stopped.

What are they waiting for?

Mike controlled his urge to spark, but it wasn’t easy. The beam of a flashlight flickered across the windshield.

“Let’s go,” Will said, stepping out of the SUV.

A man appeared, dressed all in black. Without a word, he took Will’s keys and drove off with their car.

Too afraid to speak, Mike looked at his family on the deserted sidewalk and asked a hundred questions with his eyes.   
“He’s just parking it for us,” Will whispered. “Follow me.”   
He offered his hands and led his family behind a dense thicket. After a quick scan of his surroundings, he bent down and patted the wet grass.   
“Got it,” he said, yanking something that looked like a rusty bangle. A hatch opened, and he hurried everyone inside.

“What is this?” Mike asked, marveling at the underground walkway that snaked before them. Laid with cobblestone and lit by lanterns, it smelled like mud and danger.

“It leads to RIP.” Grandpa Vik’s voice echoed. “RAD Intel Party.”

Mike beamed. “So, it’s a party?”   
“It can be.” Viktor winked at his wife. Lizzie giggled. Mike watched Will and Jess roll their eyes.

The low drone of cars on the road above them vibrated throughout the tunnel. But Mike didn’t spark once. Filled with the hope of seeing Will Byers, he followed his grandparents and parents along the cobblestone road with the bounce and promise of a day at Disneyland.

An old wooden door with thick iron hinges greeted them at the end of their brief trek.

“We’re here,” Viktor whispered.

“Mmmmm, smells like popcorn.” Mike rubbed his belly.

“That’s because we’re under Carrie’s popcorn stand,” Jess explained while Will searched for his key. “And soon we’ll be underneath the carousel.”

“Voltage!” Mike looked up, but all he saw was a mud ceiling and some broken lantern hooks.

“The carousel was built by RADs, you know,” Lizzie announced with pride. “A trio of very nice Greek sisters who used to live on a horse farm, one of them named Mrs. Hanscom. I believe her son Ben is in your grade.”

_ Beverly’s boyfriend? Does she know he’s a RAD? _

“The Gorgons can turn things to stone just by looking at them,” Viveka continued. “So one day, Maddy Hanscom hears an uproar in the stable. Turns out one of the groomers’ kids was throwing rocks at a nearby beehive and broke it. So when Maddy runs in, she is attacked and starts swatting like mad. Her glasses fall off, she looks at the horses, and just like that”—she snapped her fingers—“they turn to stone.”

“The Gorgon Sisters spent the next five years painting the horses.” Lizzie gasped at the sheer magnitude of the project. “And in 1991, Maddy donated them to the city.” She giggled. “Oh, you should really hear her tell it. It’s so funny.”

“I bet.” Mike was genuinely interested, but his thoughts drifted back to what was behind the door, not above it.

Click.

Viktor opened the door to his new social life.

“Remember,” he warned. “In here we’re family. But up there”—he pointed at the carousel—“any mention of RIP or its members is forbidden. Even in a RADs-only conversation. And that includes e-mails, texts, and tweets.”

“I understand grandpa.” Mike said, squeezing past him.

Dressed in PJs, kids of all ages were lounging on couches and club chairs, like they were hanging in a friend’s basement. Everything in this basement, though, had a casing of smooth white stone. Apparently Maddy Hanscom had lost her glasses several more times.

“Voltage!” Mike gasped. “Look at all the kids!”

“Viktor, Lizzie, Will, Jessie!” A woman wearing oversize black Dior sunglasses greeted them with open arms. Her hair was piled high under a seafoam-green Pucci headscarf, and her white linen pant suit looked surprisingly chic, despite its Labor Day expiration date.

“Maddy Hanscom, meet our son, Michael. Or Mike as he likes to be called,” Jess said, beaming.   
Maddy clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh, J, isn’t he just the cutest kid ever! Will did a wonderful job.” 

Mike preened under her praise. “Thank you Mrs. Hanscom. And I like your head scarf.” He complimented back. 

“What a gentleman!” Maddy cooed. “You can call me Maddy or mother-in-law. If Dustin ever dumps Heather, I’m ringing you up.” Mike beemed.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Maddy said, becoming grave, “I’m going to borrow your parents.” She placed a hand on each of their backs and guided them through the stone doorway.

Once the grown-ups were gone, someone blasted “My Shot” from the Hamilton soundtrack, and everyone shot up to dance. From what he could tell, no one else had seams or bolts. But there were a few guys with snakes for hair, a gilled-couple making out by the stone cactus, several swinging tails, and a serpent-skinned girl who resembled the voltage Fendi clutch Mike had seen in Grandma Lizzie’s Vogue magazine. Grandma Lizzie was up on a table rapping along with Laurens. Mike laughed.

“Mike!” A familiar barely prepubescent voice called. Mike whipped around.

“Stan?! What are you doing here?”

“I’d ask you the same thing, but…” He touched Mike’s green hand. “It’s kind of obvious. Besides, I heard a rumor a while ago that your dad was making a kid. I just didn’t know he’d be so… voltage.”

Mike delighted at the sound of his own expression.

“So you knew when we went to the spa?”

“I had a feeling. We all did,” Stan confessed. “But we’re not allowed to talk about RAD stuff out there.” He pointed up. “So we’ve been waiting for the next RIP to confirm.”

“Well, consider me confirmed.” Mike smiled brightly, luxuriating in the weightlessness of freedom. “Um… what are you?” He blurted, unsure of the polite way to ask, or if there even was one.

Stan took a step back, placed his hands squarely on his flannel covered hips, and smiled.

Pink-and-sandy brown hair… pink flannel pajamas covered in pink bats… cashmere scarf and gloves… hazel eyes… mascara smudges on his forehead… It all looked completely Stan.

“I dunno.” Mike shrugged.

“Look.” STN smiled wider for a photographer who wasn’t there.

“Fangs!” Mike shouted over the music. “You have fangs! That’s why you always laugh with your mouth closed.”

Stan nodded excitedly.

Mike was about to gush over how amazing it was they were both RADs, when he heard another familiar voice.

“G’day, mates!” Patty called, spritzing her scaly bare arms with the spa’s Evian facial mist. Her forearms were spiked with triangular growths that looked like fins, and her fingers and toes were webbed. “Confirmed?”

Stan lifted Mike’s arm and pointed at his seams.

“Ace!” The fins wiggled with delight. “Welcome to the party!”

“Ahhhhhhh,” Beverly yawned, shuffling toward them. Other than her feet, which were clad in a pair of gold colored fuzzy platform slippers, and her ring-covered hands, she was totally wrapped in strips of white cloth. The fashion-forward look was so Rihanna at the 2009 American Music Awards. “Does anyone know what’s going on? Was there another sighting?”

Stan shrugged.

“Is he here?” Beverly asked.

Stan pointed at the three boys seated on a stone carpet in front of them. One boy who looked very similar to Ben was playing the flute for his writhing head of snakes. Ben himself was writing something in a notebook.

“I can’t believe you’re here too!” Mike exclaimed, inhaling a nose full of amber perfume.

“I would say the same thing about you, only I’m not the least bit surprised,” Beverly said smugly. “Now pay up.”

“Huh?”

“Not you! Stanley!” she snapped, her tired blue eyes smoked to perfection. “I told that vamp you were one of us the first time I laid eyes on you. Now he owes me ten bucks.”

Stan rolled his eyes and handed $10 over. Beverly folded it into the shape of a pyramid and stuffed it down her linen-enhanced cleavage. “Maybe if my family got some royalties from those Brendan Fraser movies or those tacky Cleopatra Halloween costumes, I wouldn’t need to take your money. No offense to Brendan Fraser or the Mummy. Thankfully it was nowhere bear as bad as the original movie.”

“You don’t need to take my money anyway… but imagine how loaded I’d be from Twilight or Interview with a Vampire.” Stan gasped.

“I’d complain too,” Party scratched her scaly arms, “but Creature from the Black Lagoon wasn’t exactly a bonzer at the box office.”

“How did you know I was a RAD?” Mike asked Beverly, suddenly wondering who else might be onto him.

“I thought I saw you spark in the cafeteria. And then I saw it again in Audra’s car.”

“That’s not the only time I sparked yesterday.” Mike snorted.

“That power outage was you?” Patty asked.

Mike nodded sheepishly.

“Fang-tastic!” Stan clapped.

“Do you have any idea how much I hate the dark?” Beverly asked. “It reminds me of being locked in my sarcophagus.”   


“Ithought I heard you screaming.”

“My masseuse had to piggyback me outta there,” Beverly admitted. “I was scared stiff.”

“Man, I’m so sorry Bev.” Mike apologized. “I started sparking and I panicked.” 

“You mean, you are a scared stiff,” Stan teased.

The teens burst out laughing.

“It’s so voltage that you’re all RADs,” Mike exclaimed. “I never would have thought—”

The door slammed. Everyone turned to find a pack of preppy, albeit hairy, kids entering the party, their long fingers clutching supersized McDonald’s takeout bags. Without a single word, they sat at the stone picnic table and began devouring their Big Macs.

“Georgie! Max!” Beverly shouted at the youngest-looking blonde boy and a girl who had long, curly red hair and was dressed in jeans and a black hoodie. “Where’s your brother?”

“In the tunnel crying,” she said, chewing fiercely. “He got tagged again.”

Beverly and Stan exchanged a sympathetic pout.

“You don’t have to howl it to the whole world!” Bill shouted from the other side of the door.

“Um, you’re the one howling, not me,” she called, unwrapping another Big Mac and tossing the bun away.

“What am I supposed to do?” Bill entered, sobbing. “Look what they did to me.” He tugged the patch of red fur around his neck.

“What happened?” Beverly patted his arm.

“It was those PETA activists again. They think I’m wearing fur.”

“You are,” Mike reasoned.

“Yeah.” Bill unzipped his navy-blue coat and revealed his amber one. “My own!”

Mike gasped in horror. Not from the shock of seeing werewolf hair as much as from the memory of suggesting Bill remove his fur. If only he had known!

“Ugh!” the wolf growled. “If the stupid power didn’t go out yesterday, I would have gotten my wax, and none of this would have happened.”

Mike picked at his wrist seams as Beverly and everyone comforted Bill.

“Bill, isn’t it illegal for PETA to attack you like that? I mean, it’s classified as aggravated assault.” Mike pointed out. Bill’s eyes suddenly locked onto Mike.

“Hey, what’s he doing here?” Bill asked.

Mike pointed to his bolts.

“Oh, cool.” Bill sat, unfazed, as if he pierced necks at the mall for a living. A sandy blonde raced in giving a piggyback ride to a short girl with a halo of brown curls. Close behind them, was Nancy Wheeler, Ms. T, and Mrs. Wheeler. Mrs. Wheeler turned around and locked the door. Mike deflated slightly. He’d expected Will to show up.

Mike let out a heavy sigh. He wasn’t coming. He wasn’t like him. He wasn’t an option.   
Ms. T shut off the stereo and everyone sat, like in a game of musical chairs. Patty wrapped herself in a plush red robe and joined the girls on the couch.

“Sorry we’re late,” Ms. T announced. “Car trouble.”

“Yeah, remind me to use that one the next time I’m late for biology,” Max barked.

Everyone chuckled.

“You need to get your license first,” she fired back, stepping up to the stone podium that faced the couch klatch.

“Eleven days,” Max announced.

The RADs applauded. She stood and bowed while Mike studied Ms. T with renewed interest. Huge magnifying glasses, a wild, curly red bob, red lipstick, and a collection of pencil skirts and blouses in varying shades of black made her interesting for a teacher. But as a RAD, she lacked pizzazz.

“What’s she in for?” Mike whispered to Stan.

“She’s a normie, but her kids are RADs, only her son doesn’t know. She thinks not knowing will protect him.”

“Is it Will?” Mike whispered excitedly.

“No, but his brother and sister are.” Stan pointed back at the blonde and brunette whispering to each other. Looking closely, Mike could see that the girl was juggling what looked like icicles that the blonde was making.

”Huh?” Mike was a little lost. How was Will not a RAD if his siblings were.

“Will’s dad isn’t the same as Jon’s and Ellie is adopted.” Stan said, tugging Mike down. Ohhhh. “Jon’s dad is Sheriff Hopper. Will’s is Lonnie Byers.”

“Before we get started on today’s topic, I’d like to introduce our newest member,” Grandma Lizzie said. “My grandson Mike Hanlon.”

Mike stood while everyone applauded. Their smiles so warm, they looked fresh from the oven. He smiled back with his entire body.

“Please introduce yourself to Mike after the meeting if you haven’t already done so. Okay, moving on…” Ms. T said. She flipped through some notes on a yellow legal pad. “As you know, there was a RAD sighting at Mount Hood High last week.”

Mike tugged at his neck seams.   
“I’m guessing it was a prank, but the normies are taking it very seriously. Several are staying indoors—”

“Awoooooooo!” Bill’s brothers and sisters howled and stomped their loafers. Except for Georgie who was more interested in making paper boats.

“Heel!” Mrs. Wheeler snapped, her honey curls swinging. “There’s already adversity in this world. We need to come from a place of love. Got it?” she yelled.

The teens quieted down immediately.

“My point is, we need to exercise extreme caution until this blows over. Normie interactions should be kept friendly but distant—”

Beverly’s hand shot up. “Ms. T? Mrs. Wheeler? When you say ‘distant,’ does that mean no kissing Eddork?”

“Is he a normie?”

Beverly nodded.

The teacher removed her glasses and shot Beverly an are-you-seriously-asking-me-that? glance. “Then you know the answer.”

Ben stood and faced his girlfriend. “Bev, you have to let it go!” His snakes hissed in agreement. “I told you he attacked me. I had nothing to do with it. I love you and only you.”

Beverly’s thick (possibly false) lashes fluttered. “I know. I just wanted to hear you say it in front of everyone. Anyway, he doesn’t like you. He likes Richie.”

Everyone giggled except Ms. T—and Mike, who couldn’t help wondering why everyone thought Eddie was so voltage. Because he sounded like nothing more than a boyfriend stealer.

“Are you through, Beverly?” said Ms. T.

“That depends.” She fixed her gaze back on Ben. “Are you?”

Ben nodded and then blew Beverly a kiss. Beverly blew one back.

Ben sat down on the stone carpet. He put on his headphones, and the snakes settled immediately.

Beverly smirked at Ms. T. “Now I’m through.”

“Nice!” Bill lifted his hand, and the two high-fived.

“If everyone is through, then I’d like to move on to something a little more… pressing.” Ms. T stood and pushed back the puffy sleeves of her black blouse. “It came to my attention during our Friday staff meeting that this year's September Semi has a theme.”

“Under the sea?” Patty asked.

“Broadway like Homecoming was?” Audra asked.

“No. Sorry girls. It’s Monster Mash themed.” Mrs. Wheeler said. Mike saw Jonathan roll his eyes.

“Mrs. Wheeler. The theme isn’t hurting anyone. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” He yelled. He stood up. “I’m sick of having to wear layers and layers to hide my fur.” He yanked the sleeves of his flannel and denim jacket up, revealing white fur. “One night to let us be us won’t hurt anything. Think about kids like Georgie and Claire. You’re raising us to be scared of ourselves.” Mike nodded, agreeing with Jonathan. “Also, Beverly Cleopatra, I’m friends with Eddie and he’s nothing but nice. Also Ben, he really is sorry he kissed you. He just wanted Beverly to know how much it hurts to see someone you like kiss someone else.”

“You’d know Jonathan. Given how sad you always get about Steve and Nancy.” Beverly spat. Mike zapped her. “Ow!” Mike glared at her.

“I’d stop while you’re ahead Beverly.” Ms. T said. Beverly crossed her arms and sank back in her seat annoyed.

“How about we put it to a vote?” Grabdma Lizzie said. “All in favor of coming out of the casket during the September Semi, raise your hand.”

Mike’s arm shot up. He looked behind him and saw Jonathan, Grandma, Nancy, and Ellie raising their hands. “All in favor of staying hidden?”

Everyone else raised their hands. Mike sparked out of shame. Mike stood and walked to stand with Jonathan and Nancy, heedless of Stan and Beverly’s hurt expressions.

“It’s settled, then,” Ms. T announced. “Forty-Six to Five—”

“Six,” said a boy’s voice.

Mike searched the room for his ally but saw no one.

“Over here,” said a floating sticker hovering next him. The sticker read HELLO, MY NAME IS BELCH. “Hey. I just wanted to let you know you had my vote.”

“Voltage.” Mike grinned weakly.

“What are we going to do?” Ms. T shouted.  

“Hide with pride!” everyone shouted back.

Everyone but the five teens standing together. Mike ignored the pleading looks his friends shot him.


	14. Ghost and Tell

**_NANCY:_** Barb, why weren’t u at the RIP meeting? A new RAD was confirmed.

**_BARBARA:_ ** Missed it. Mrs. Hanscom is sending transcRIPts.

**_NANCY:_ ** ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

While Mike Hanlon was busy pushing the RADs to go radical, Barbara Ghoulland was staging a much quieter rebellion of her own. She flicked a strand of short blue hair away from her huge coke bottle thick glasses as she texted another plea to her parents, begging for permission to go to NekroCon, the first-ever undead fan convention. According to the event website, only twenty tickets remained. How was that even possible when the con was almost a year away? Still, the countdown clock was urging fans to act fast before tickets sold out. But what were the actual undead supposed to do?

Like all the other RADs, Barb lived a lie. At Merston High, she had to be Barbara Holland. But this teenage daughter of the living undead didn’t mind the double-life thing. After all, two lives are better than none.

Barb’s main problem with fitting into the normie mold? She was marred by a birthmark across one side of her face that left it looking like Freddy Krueger’s skin and the fact that her voice could literally drive people insane on top of basically being a ghost. All part of literally being the granddaughter of the fabled Phantom of the Opera and the daughter of an irish banshee. She’d inherited Marsha’s voice and her grandfather Eric’s disfigured face. Her enforced quiet nature gave her ample opportunity to collect data, analyze it, and formulate the most efficient way to do things. Barb was first in her class at Merston High, and her parents fully expected her to be valedictorian at graduation.

She only asked for two things in return: Dead Fast graphic novels (okay, comic books) and a ticket to NekroCon—of which there were now only eleven left. She typed faster.

**_Barb:_ ** How is Phantom trashy and exploitive if the Phantom is the hero? 

**_Dadtom:_ ** No Barb.

**_Barb:_ ** Please daddy! I never ask you for anything! And I’ll pay for it myself!

**_Dadtom:_ ** thinking about it.

 

_ Think faster damn it! _ Barb thought. She quickly worked through her homework and texted Nancy.

**_Mamma Screams:_ ** Sorry princess but maybe next year for your graduation gift. I’m just too worried about everything going on to let you go.

_ No! _ Barb dropped her head into her hands and groaned. She turned back to her computer and hacked into Henry and Patrick’s book. 

Henry and Will are the perfect couple, but even couples who are sickly ridikly kee-yoot together need to keep an eye on the competition after three blissful years. To this end, Hank has developed a strategic plan to keep Will in his sights.

**Step 1:** Identify PTs. Warning signs include shiny hair, symmetrical facial features, and manicured nails. Keep an eye out for RED-ALERT PTs—physical threats who don’t own the fact that they are PTs.   
Today there were two new students to assess:

Mike Hanlon —tons of makeup (he must have terrible skin).  Atrocious vintage private school uniform (clearly, this boy has watched too many Spring Awakening and Bare bootlegs). But he does have great hair.  **Assessment:** not a PT, but monitor.

Eddie Criss— shiny brown home done undercut, perfect nose and teeth. Completely uncomfortable with his own looks, as apparent from his ill-fitting jackets in strange colors. Observed: Eddie was talking to Richie—nerd alert—and actually got upstaged completely when BEVERLY SWOOPED IN and STOLE HIS SOUL through her glossy lips! (See past installments 1–678 for more details on Beverly’s crush-stealing, boyfriend-napping, home-wrecking ways.) Assessment: RED-ALERT PT.

Barb couldn’t read any more. The normies had it backward. All facts pointed to Mike being the PT. It was obvious to Barb that the makeup and vintage uniforms were a cover for Mike’s own RAD self. Okay, that and the fact that while walking to school this morning Barb had seen Mr. Hanlon driving Mike to school. As for Bev kissing Richie, Barb didn’t doubt it. Bad Beverly, she thought. That mummy can’t keep it under wraps! She flipped back to the ticket page and she saw a new message pop up on her monitor: ENTER THE “DEAD FAST, DEAD FIRST” WRITING CONTEST AND WIN AN ALL-ACCESS CONVENTION PASS.   
Barb scanned the rules— _ entry due one month prior to opening day… contest open only to amateurs, no professional writers… make yourself a character… _

Barb read the guidelines again and again. She already had the plot in her head, and both Will and Richie could help illustrate her story. The easy part would be writing down the story. She got countless awards for her stories. Getting her parents on board would be another story—one that she hoped would have a happy ending.


	15. Hide and Shriek

“Can anyone tell me what an autotroph is?” Mrs. Wheeler asked her science students, holding up a flash card. Mike’s hand shot into the air. Most of his friends were still yawning from the late-night RIP gathering, but he was on fire—in a good way.   
“Yes, Mike?” Mrs. Wheeler asked.

“An autotroph is something that makes energy directly from the sun.”

“Very good.” She held up another card. “What about anabiotic?”

Mike raised his hand again, wishing he’d had chosen a more forgiving fabric. Tweed was so tight and itchy. At least borrowing Stan’s pink plaid scarf allowed him to lower the collar. But now he was stuck wearing a scarf in class. What next? A whiplash brace? A plastic dog cone? bill’s tagged tuft?

Mrs. Wheeler scanned the four rows of desks. Her hazel eyes considered each student equally, as if yesterday had never happened.

Meanwhile, Stan, Beverly, Bill, and Patty were just as nonchalant. Dressed in their regular school clothes, doodling in their notebooks, checking for split ends, picking their cuticles… They behaved exactly like every other kid in the class. Bored and normal.

The only person showing any RAD pride was Will, who sat next to her sketching a school uniform zombie into his sketchbook. It was definitely a sign. Their beach day was coming.

“Yes, Mike?” Mrs. Wheeler said, sounding a little bored herself.

“Anabiotic describes something that is living in a state of suspended animation.”

“Good.” She flipped a card. “And biotic?”

“A cyborg!” Will blurted. “Like Steve Austin on that old TV show The Six Million Dollar Man.”

“Who?” Henry asked, sounding slightly jealous.

“Tv show character from the 70s.” Mike said, condescendingly. “He’s cool. He could run fast. Also Biotic is something that’s living.”

“Oh oops.” Will blushed. “Sorry Mrs. Wheeler. I misheard you.”

“Mrs. Wheeler!” Eddie’s hand was in the air. “I was reading a book about the undead. Theoretically, would they be biotic or anabiotic?” Stan, Beverly, Bill, and Patty looked up fearfully.

“Probably anabiotic.” Mike said without thinking. “You’re thinking Warm Bodies not Resident Evil right?” Eddie grinned and nodded. The others calmed down once they realized Eddie didn’t know anything.

Mrs. Wheeler slammed the chalk back on the ledge. “That’s quite enough! I’m talking about real science here. Not some mythical—”

_ Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo… _

“On your desks!” Mrs. Wheeler shouted. She jumped up on her own desk.

No one moved. Instead, all the students looked to their neighbors, wondering if this was some new prank-show trick. How else to explain a deafening siren, their teacher’s sudden hysteria, and their confusion?

“Now! This is an emergency drill.”

This time they did what they were told.

“Good thing I wore my flats today,” Beverly mumbled, admiring the bronze finish on her three-inch gladiator wedges.

The others giggled, still not knowing what they were being drilled for.

_ Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo… _

“Silence!” Mrs. Wheeler snapped.

“Tell that to the siren,” Bill barked. His hands were covering his ears, and his face was contorted in pain. “It’s deafening.”

Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo…

“Maybe you have bionic ears,” Will joked, from the top of his desk.

“Or dog senses,” Henry added.

“You would know,” Bill hissed. “With all those freckles, you must be half-Dalmatian.” Stan snorted. Eddie’s face was also contorted in pain.

Henry gasped and then looked to Will, expecting him to rush to his defense. But he couldn’t. He was too busy fighting the urge to laugh.

_ Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo… _

“Now lift up your chairs and jab them into the air,” Mrs. Wheeler insisted, demonstrating on her own desk. With her black skirt, satin blouse, and paint-the-town-red lips, she could have been in a photo shoot for a new trend called lion-tamer chic. “And make as much noise as you can.”

She eyed her students, who were all at various stages of chair lifting and jabbing. Yet not even the most obedient ones could bring themselves to make noise.   
“What are we doing?” Beverly asked, refusing to lift a heavy chair unless absolutely necessary.

Whooping, shouting, yelping, and stomping echoed through the empty halls. Clearly, the other classes were more open to this mysterious exercise.

“It’s a drill,” Mrs. Wheeler repeated, still poking at the air with chair legs.

_ Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo… _

“What kind of drill?” Several voices overlapped.

“A monster drill, okay?”

“A what?” Stan asked through tight lips.

“A monster drill,” Mrs. Wheeler lowered the chair, “in case there’s a sighting at our school. Principal Grey thinks it’s best to be prepared.”   
Seriously? Mike thought his teacher’s matter-of-fact attitude was disturbing. Is she really okay with this?

“Yeeeeeeah!” Henry began waving his chair around and hollering like a wild warrior.

The other normies did too. Mike couldn’t blame them. They had inherited this fear from their parents. But if they were shown that they were harmless, this would be useless.

Mike dropped his chair. Eddie did the same. Followed by Ellie.

“Boys. Ms. Hopper. Pick up your chairs.” Mrs. Wheeler snapped. 

“No.” Everyone looked at Mike. “I’m not afraid.”

“Neither am I.” Eddie smiled at Mike.

“Well, you should be,” Mrs. Wheeler threatened.

“Cool,” Will whispered.

Mike turned toward him. “Huh?”   
He pointed to his neck. A snap of electricity zipped up his spine. All that poking and jabbing had loosened Stan’s scarf. His bolts were sticking out!   


“Can anyone tell me what an autotroph is?” Mrs. Wheeler asked her science students, holding up a flash card. Mike’s hand shot into the air. Most of his friends were still yawning from the late-night RIP gathering, but he was on fire—in a good way.   
“Yes, Mike?” Ms. J asked.   
“An autotroph is something that makes energy directly from the sun.”   
“Very good.” She held up another card. “What about anabiotic?”

Mike raised his hand again, wishing he’d had chosen a more forgiving fabric. Tweed was so tight and itchy. At least borrowing Stan’s pink plaid scarf allowed him to lower the collar. But now he was stuck wearing a scarf in class. What next? A whiplash brace? A plastic dog cone? bill’s tagged tuft?   
Mrs. Wheeler scanned the four rows of desks. Her hazel eyes considered each student equally, as if yesterday had never happened.   
Meanwhile, Stan, Beverly, Bill, and Patty were just as nonchalant. Dressed in their regular school clothes, doodling in their notebooks, checking for split ends, picking their cuticles… They behaved exactly like every other kid in the class. Bored and normal.   
The only person showing any RAD pride was Will, who sat next to her sketching a school uniform zombie into his sketchbook. It was definitely a sign. Their beach day was coming.

“Yes, Mike?” Mrs. Wheeler said, sounding a little bored herself.   
“Anabiotic describes something that is living in a state of suspended animation.”   
“Good.” She flipped a card. “And biotic?”   
“A cyborg!” Will blurted. “Like Steve Austin on that old TV show The Six Million Dollar Man.”   
“Who?” Henry asked, sounding slightly jealous.

“Tv show character from the 70s.” Mike said, condescendingly. “He’s cool. He could run fast. Also Biotic is something that’s living.”

“Oh oops.” Will blushed. “Sorry Mrs. Wheeler. I misheard you.”

“Mrs. Wheeler!” Eddie’s hand was in the air. “I was reading a book about the undead. Theoretically, would they be biotic or anabiotic?” Stan, Beverly, Bill, and Patty looked up fearfully.

“Probably anabiotic.” Mike said without thinking. “You’re thinking Warm Bodies not Resident Evil right?” Eddie grinned and nodded. The others calmed down once they realized Eddie didn’t know anything.

Mrs. Wheeler slammed the chalk back on the ledge. “That’s quite enough! I’m talking about real science here. Not some mythical—”   
_ Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo… _ _   
_ “On your desks!” Mrs. Wheeler shouted. She jumped up on her own desk.

No one moved. Instead, all the students looked to their neighbors, wondering if this was some new prank-show trick. How else to explain a deafening siren, their teacher’s sudden hysteria, and their confusion?

“Now! This is an emergency drill.”   
This time they did what they were told.   
“Good thing I wore my flats today,” Beverly mumbled, admiring the bronze finish on her three-inch gladiator wedges.   
The others giggled, still not knowing what they were being drilled for.   
Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo…   
“Silence!” Mrs. Wheeler snapped.   
“Tell that to the siren,” Bill barked. His hands were covering his ears, and his face was contorted in pain. “It’s deafening.”   
Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo…   
“Maybe you have bionic ears,” Will joked, from the top of his desk.   
“Or dog senses,” Henry added.   
“You would know,” Bill hissed. “With all those freckles, you must be half-Dalmatian.” Stan snorted. Eddie’s face was also contorted in pain.

Henry gasped and then looked to Will, expecting him to rush to his defense. But he couldn’t. He was too busy fighting the urge to laugh.   
Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo…   
“Now lift up your chairs and jab them into the air,” Mrs. Wheeler insisted, demonstrating on her own desk. With her black skirt, satin blouse, and paint-the-town-red lips, she could have been in a photo shoot for a new trend called lion-tamer chic. “And make as much noise as you can.”

She eyed her students, who were all at various stages of chair lifting and jabbing. Yet not even the most obedient ones could bring themselves to make noise.   
“What are we doing?” Beverly asked, refusing to lift a heavy chair unless absolutely necessary.   
Whooping, shouting, yelping, and stomping echoed through the empty halls. Clearly, the other classes were more open to this mysterious exercise.   
“It’s a drill,” Mrs. Wheeler repeated, still poking at the air with chair legs.   
Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo…   
“What kind of drill?” Several voices overlapped.   
“A monster drill, okay?”   
“A what?” Stan asked through tight lips.   
“A monster drill,” Mrs. Wheeler lowered the chair, “in case there’s a sighting at our school. Principal Grey thinks it’s best to be prepared.”   
Seriously? Mike thought his teacher’s matter-of-fact attitude was disturbing. Is she really okay with this?   
“Yeeeeeeah!” Will began waving his chair around and hollering like a wild warrior.   
The other normies did too. Mike couldn’t blame them. They had inherited this fear from their parents. But if they were shown that they were harmless, this would be useless.

Mike dropped his chair. Eddie did the same. Followed by Ellie.

“Boys. Jane. Pick up your chairs.” Mrs. Wheeler snapped. 

“No.” Everyone looked at Mike. “I’m not afraid.”

“Neither am I.” Eddie smiled at Mike.

“Well, you should be,” Mrs. Wheeler threatened.

“Cool,” Will whispered.

Mike turned toward him. “Huh?”

He pointed to his neck. A snap of electricity zipped up her spine. All that poking and jabbing had loosened Stan’s scarf. His bolts were sticking out!

“Love the piercings,” he whispered, then opened his mouth and flashed his silver tongue stud.

“Cool.” Mike smiled.

Finally, the siren stopped.

“Please take your seats.” Principal Grey’s pinched voice came over the PA system.  “Rest assured that this was only a drill. But we want to be prepared in the event of another sighting,” he said.

Mike scoffed. If only they knew their ‘monster’ was acing Science. “Now, guys and ghouls…” He snickered at his lame joke. “The faculty here at Merston High wants to show these colossal creatures that we’re not afraid.”

Everyone woo-hooed in agreement.

“So this year’s theme for the September Semi is… MONSTER MASH!” He paused, giving the students more time to cheer.

“A gift certificate for a dinner cruise on the Willamette Queen will be awarded to the couple with the creepiest costume, so get your tickets before they’re all sold owww-oooooooooooot! Mwwwahh ahhh ahhhh ahhhhhhhh!” He signed off with his best howl-at-the-moon-maniacal-laughter impression. A clap of thunder sound effect followed. Mike rolled his eyes again. 

“I’m Frankenstein!” Will mumbled.

“I’ll be your lovely groom,” Henry said loudly. He grabbed his arm and glared at Mike. His eagle eyes hadn’t missed the moment between them.

“Hey Mike!” Eddie yelled across the room. Mike looked up. “Wanna join up with me, Richie, and Jonathan? I’m going to be the ghost of Kurt Cobain.” Mike warmed to Eddie. 

“Sure.” Will grinned up at him. Oh how Mike wanted to tell Will that he’d be going as his grumpy grandpa. And that he had the bride’s dress in his garage.

_ Bwooop. Bwoooop. _

Class was finally over.

“Mike, Ellie, please stay behind,” Mrs. Wheeler said, still fussing with her papers.   
Instead of wishing her luck, the RADs quickly gathered their books and hurried out, while the normies took their time, exchanging costume ideas and whispering about their ideal dates.

Once the room had emptied, Mike and Ellie approached Mrs. Wheeler’s desk.   
The teacher removed her glasses and slammed them on the wooden desk. “What do you think you’re doing? Do you have any idea how risky your behavior is?”

“I don’t want to hide.” Ellie said simply.

“Neither do I. And honestly, I'm ashamed in all you adults raising us to be ashamed of who we are.” Mike shot back. “Because hide with pride is utter bolt-shock.”

“Mrs. Wheeler exhaled. “Listen,” she said, putting her glasses back on, “I know that you’re new here. I understand your frustration and your desire to change things. And you’re not alone. Every one of your friends has felt it. I have too.” She locked eyes with Mike. “You don’t think I want to march up to”—she pointed at the speaker that had broadcast Principal Grey’s announcement—“and tell him that his silly desk dance is unnecessary? Or that it’s more humiliating than the YouTube clip of Tom Cruise on Oprah?”

“But—”

“Because I do. I want to say all of those things and dozens more.” Her jaw tensed. “But I can’t. I have a family to protect. And as an aunt, I have to put their needs before mine.”

“This isn’t doing anyone favors.” Mike snapped. “This has already sent us back to the ‘30s. And before you say people lost their lives back then, may I remind you that in essence, we’re losing our lives by pretending we don’t exist. Stuff like Vamperina, Hotel Transylvania, Monster Prom, Teen Wolf, Goddess Girls, Young Frankenstein, Dark Shadows, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Being Human, True Blood, and My Babysitter’s a Vampire already laid the groundwork for us to make the change we need to. Kids aren’t afraid of us.” Mike fixed his scarf and calmly finished “And don’t worry. I’ll lay low for now.”

Mike would keep his promise to Mrs. Wheeler and play the game.  But he would follow his own set of rules

 


	16. Tender Loving Scare

It was a tomato-soup-and-macaroni kind of night.

Light, the color of muddy snow, was fading. Little by little, as if controlled by a dimmer switch, it begged it’s pardon from the ravine behind Richie’s house. The fading light could fool the eye into thinking a twiggy tree was a frail old man.

The rain stopped after school, but it was still “treeing”—a local term for excess water being blown from the leaves. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a local term for how bone-chilling it was. According to Will, these were the ideal conditions for shooting his film The Monster Hunt Chronicles. But according to Henry, he was seven minutes late.

“I hope he’s okay.” Henry sat on a fallen tree trunk. He was wrapped with Patrick in one of the ThermaFoil blankets Eddie had borrowed from Darryl. Made of some kind of heat-trapping silver foil and lined in fleece, they were supposed to warm mountain climbers on the snowiest of summits. But with Richie snuggling beside him, Eddie decided the blanket was redundant.

At first, Eddie had tried to decline the offer to be in what Eddie secretly referred to as The Will Witch Project, because she had study plans with Richie. Although he didn’t know it, they had a movie of their own to shoot. It was called Boy… Interrupted. And take two of Saturday night’s kissing scene was top priority.

But Richie had been standing by Eddie’s locker when Henry asked, and he offered his property as a location. After years of neglect, the ravine was overgrown and wild. And coyotes—or were they wolves?—began howling after dark. Henry agreed it would be perfect and immediately texted Will.

“You don’t think he’s hanging out with that new boy, do you?” Henry pulled the ThermaFoil so tight that he and Patrick looked like a metallic sushi roll.

“What?” Eddie asked, catching a tropical whiff of his tropical starbursts. It was trapped under him ThermaFoil blending with the odor of the oily crayon pastels left on Richie’s hands. Combined, it smelled like first love.

“Why would Will hang out with Homeschool?” Richie asked, adorably willing to participate in their catty conversation.   


“I dunno.” Henry pulled a picked at a loose thread. “But you should have seen him flirting with him in science today. I’m surprised your auntie didn’t mention it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me Henry.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “So Mike knows what Will is talking about usually. Big whoop. Put a little effort into Will’s interests and you wouldn’t have to worry.”

Henry seemed to look like he was about to yell at Eddie when Richie suddenly said “My mom and my aunt won’t say much of anything lately. Something about how Holly’s health is too stressful for them to focus on anything.” Richie said, more than a little tee’ed off. 

“I wonder if it had anything to do with that bizarre monster drill,” Patrick said with a disbelieving snort. “I mean, what was that?”

“It was a little weird, but hey”—Henry shrugged—“if it keeps us safe, I’m all for it.”

“Safe from what, exactly?” Eddie asked, wondering how the primitive chair dance could ward off anything stronger than a fart. “Assuming these monsters really exist, it’s not like they’ve ever hurt anyone, right? Who knows? Maybe they’re nice.”

“Are you seriously siding with them?” Henry snapped.

“No shit I am.” Eddie said before he could stop himself. “I refuse to judge someone based on their looks. I know what it feels like.” Henry suddenly jumped up, knocking Patrick on his back.

“Will! You’re here!” 

“ ’Course I did,” Will called, tripping over his boots as he made his way toward him. His mega-tread hiking boots crunched over dead leaves with monster-truck force. He’d ditched the blue and orange body warmer for a huge denim jacket that swamped him and might’ve actually been Jonathan’s. And speaking of, Jonathan and his friend/Nancy Wheeler’s boyfriend, Steve Harrington, lagged behind, carrying cameras and the sound gear. Jonathan seemed to have put on even MORE layers between school ending and now. And Steve was wearing a grey bomber jacket and jeans that looked pressed.

“You look fancy, Stevie boy.” Richie hollered.

“Shut your mouth Tozier.” Steve automatically responded. “Or I’ll tell your sister you’re the one who stole her pink makeup bag.”

“You wouldn’t.” Richie scrambled up, almost knocking Eddie over.

“Try me trashmouth.” Steve smirked.

“He did what.” Steve and Richie both went white.

“Oh fuck.” Eddie laughed.

“I didn’t do anything.” Richie said quickly. “Steve, Will. Jonny boy. Let’s go find some sticks to jimmy a tripod out of.” All four boys took off.

“Richie is so much cooler than I thought,” Patrick whispered.

“He’s nice,” Eddie said casually, trying not to gush.

“So you’re buying his whole blackout excuse?” Henry pressed. “You don’t think he knew he was hooking up with Beverly?”

Patrick pulled her phone from her pocket and began typing.   
“Not everyone is as jealous as you,” Eddie snapped. Not because he thought Henry was wrong. He was afraid Henry might be right. But he also remembered what Richie had told him. “I believe him.”

“Good.” Henry stood. He peered through clearings between the trees and cupped his ear.

“What are you listening to?” Eddie asked, his heart revving. “What is it? Do you hear something?”

“No.” Henry sighed, then scurried back to the trunk. “Okay, here’s the deal,” he whispered, leaning in to his friends. “Jon and Steve aren’t getting twigs for a tripod. They’re going to scare us.” Nancy rolled her eyes and crossed her legs.

“I know. I heard Steve telling Jon and Will that it would be the best chance at capturing genuine fear.” Nancy scoffed.

“Who even invited you.” Henry snapped.

“It’s my property.” Nancy said.

“Ugh.” Henry rolled his eyes and settled back onto the log.

All of a sudden a twig snapped in the distance.

Henry winked at his friends and Nancy. They all giggled into their palms.

More footsteps crunching over leaves.

Then silence.

“Thank you!” Eddie mouthed to his friend. Without the warning he might have pooped his sweats.

Henry said, “You’re welcome,” with another wink and then sprang into actor mode. “Do you hear something?” He asked a little too loudly.

“Yeah,” Patrick whimpered.

“I’m sure it’s just the wind, you guys. Relax,” Eddie tried.

Another twig snapped.

“Oh my god! I hear it!” Nancy blurted, trying not to laugh.

Something that sounded like Darth Vader on a treadmill followed.

“You guys, I’m freaking!” Patrick squealed.

“Will!” Henry called.

“Steve!” Nancy shouted.

More silence. And then…

_ “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” _ Wearing a hockey mask and a bloodstained T-shirt and swinging a plastic machete, Steve charged from the bushes. Jon followed behind, shooting the action with a digital camera.

_ “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” _ the younger tewns shouted, then jumped into each other’s arms.

Steve circled them, brandishing his machete. “Eenie, meenie, miney, mo. What to slice first? A finger or a toe?”

“Help!” Patrick cried. Either he was a gifted actress, or Henry and Nancy’s warning had failed to sink in.

“Somebody help!” Eddie panicked, but only because Patrick was.

“Steve!” Nancy called again.

“Annnnnnd cut!” Will shouted, bursting through the foliage. “We got it.” Steve took off the mask, laughing.

“That was you?” Eddie cried, embarrassed by his own bad acting.

“I thought the camera would have given me away but I guess you wimps were too freaked out to notice.” He bumped fists with Jonathan and Will then pulled Henry in for a celebratory hug.

“Jerk!” Nancy shoved Steve.

“Crybaby.” He shoved back, then put her in a headlock and knuckled her head.

She laugh-smacked his legs, begging him to stop. But she probably hoped he wouldn’t.

“Hey, where’s Richie?” Eddie asked.

“Oh, he said he wasn’t feeling well,” Will said softly.

“Where did he go?”

“I think back up to his house,” Will said, moving in for a bite of juicy peach.

“Be right back,” Eddie announced to no one in particular. With nothing but a ThermaFoil blanket and the promise of true love’s kiss, he hurried off to find Richie.

“Richie?” He called, into the thick brush. “Ri-chee!”

What if he’d had a blackout? What if he’d had a blackout and fallen? What if he’d had a blackout and fallen on Beverly’s lips? Eddie slapped poking twigs and sharp-edged leaves aside. Trying not to acknowledge that he was alone in a ravine where there might be a—

“Eddie?” He heard him whisper. Or was it the wind?

“Chee?”

“Up here,” he said softly before jumping down.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked. He was wearing the Therma-Foil like a cape around his neck, superhero-style. He tried to look past his lenses to see his eyes, but it was too dark. “You didn’t have a blackout or anything, did you?”

“Nope.” He shook his head with little-boy cuteness. “But it’s nice to know you care.” He leaned against the tree behind him and folded his arms across his fleece lined hoodie.

“Of course I care.” He stepped a little closer. “So, why did you leave?”

He shrugged as though it should have been obvious. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

Eddie sank deeper into that warm bath. And even though he didn’t say anything, he could tell that Richie was sinking too. It was the safest he had ever felt around anyone who wasn’t family. If only he could take this moment, and the feelings that came with it, and seal it off from the rest of the world. So that it could always stay exactly as it was.   
Stepping even closer, Eddie lifted the ThermaFoil above their heads and let it fall over them, sealing them off for real. And there, surrounded by darkness and heat, rustling leaves and distant howling coyotes, tropical starbursts and pastel-scented hands, they kissed… and kissed… and kissed.…


	17. Kissaster

… and kissed… and kissed… and kissed.

Sweat glazed their cheeks like doughnuts and salted their lips like pretzels. If it hadn’t been for the lack of oxygen, plus Eddie’s constricting bronchi, he could have stayed in the curdy cocoon with Richie until graduation. But it was getting harder to breathe, and Eddie didn’t have his inhaler.

“Air!” He gasped, throwing off the ThermaFoil and giggling at their mutually disheveled states.

“What… happened to… your… glasses?” He panted.

His face was dripping with sweat, and his hazel eyes searched her confusedly. He leaned forward to kiss him again.

“Wait.” Eddie laughed, pressing his hand against his thumping chest. “I need to catch my breath.”

“Sorry.” He leaned closer. “I just really want to kiss you.” His voice sounded softer, more nervous and sweet.

“What?” Eddie giggled. “Where’dja hear that line? Sounds a little Eugene-ish.”

“Who’s Eugene?” He pulled away, offended.

“From Tangled?”

“Oh.” He dismissed the reference with a wave of his hand. Then he studied him face. “Actually, who are you?”

“What?” He giggled again, but something about his expression told him he wasn’t joking.

“Seriously, are we in a class together?”

“Richie!” He blurted, despite the tightness in his lungs. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Who’s Richie?” His expression soured, and he paused.

“Richie, stop it.” Eddie took a step away from him. “You’re freaking me out.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He gently pulled him close.

Wanting to trust him, Eddie found his breath and inhaled deeply. He smelled different, like dusty basements. Or was that the stench of reality after the love had gone? 

“So if I’m Richie, who are you?”

“Ew!” He pushed him away. “Enough!”

“Wait.” He took a step back. “I don’t get it. Are you into this or not? I just want to know.”

Eddie’s stomach roiled. Was this another one of Steve’s jokes? Was Richie part of his crew? Had Henry and Nancy set him up and lured him into their twisted circle so they could capture a realistic heartbreak scene? He quickly searched the bushes for a hidden camera. 

“I get it. Max roped you into pranking me to get back at me for El!” Richie accused looking around. “Very funny Max! Ha Ha!”

“Fuck you.” Eddie spat, tears welling up in his eyes. “I actually fucking trusted you Richie!”

“You know what. Fuck you too!” Richie spat back. “I’m kinda already into someone and he’s a hell of a lot sweeter than you and a firecracker!” Eddie shoved him away and stormed away, despite the tears obscuring his vision.

_**Eddie:** If Will wants to find real monsters he should date Richie. :( _

He hit SEND.

And the dam broke.


	18. Put the Boy in Boycott

 

“Michael, dear. Pass the asparagus to the guests please.” Jessica said in her madonna levels of fake english accent. Not that Mike was surprised. Nope. All dinner everything was horribly fake. From the relaxed smiles on their faces to grandma pretending to be sick and hiding in her room.

 

* * *

 

 

The truth was, if the horse could’ve gotten through the door, Jessica would have ridden through the kitchen that morning shouting, “The normies are coming! The normies are coming!” Instead, she triple-checked everyone’s makeup, wrapped their turtlenecks with scarves and closed the door to the lab.

“Tonight is very important for our family,” she had warned earlier, as Mike and grandma helped her set six places at a table that usually sat five. “The new dean may give your father a lot of research money, so we need to make a good impression. Which means mom has to pretend to be a frail old lady.”

First Mrs. Wheeler, and now his mother; Mike was tired of being told how to behave around normies. “Should I set places for the Glitterati?” He asked, unable to squelch his frustration.

Jessica set the last plate down with an audible clink. “Excuse me?”

“Won’t they be the ones affected if dad gets this money?” Mike folded a steel-gray cloth napkin and set it in place. “You know, since he’ll be experimenting on them.”

“Actually, it’s wounded veterans and people in hospitals waiting for organ transplants who will be affected by Dean Mathis’s money.”

“You mean normies in hospitals, right?” Mike pressed.

“No, everyone. Eventually.” Jessica said, facing away from her son and mother.

“It’s okay, bubby.” Lizzie patted Mike’s cheek. “Once this is over, we can binge watch the flash.”

The timer went off in the kitchen.

Jessica hurried to remove the roast from the oven. “Finally!” She sighed, pulling her dark  hair to one side and examining the sizzling beef. “Perfect. Third one’s a charm.”

“You know”—Jessica returned to the table with two more crystal glasses and a new spring in her stride—“if this goes according to plan, one day your dad won’t need seams to put people back together. His artificial body parts will attach to the patients’ existing tissue and regenerate.”

“Because seams are unsightly and hideous, right?” Mike’s eyes pooled.

“No, Mike, that’s not what I’m saying.” Jessica hurried to her son’s side.

“Well, that’s what you said!” Mike ran into the lab and slammed the door behind him. The sudden breeze blew Aaron Taylor Johnson’s face right off the skeleton—just another normie who couldn’t stand to look at him.

 

* * *

 

“Michael, the asparagus, please,” Jessica called from the head of the table, this time a little louder, bringing Mike back to the present.

“Oh, sorry.” Mike leaned forward to grab the white ceramic dish, and passed it across the table to Mrs. Mathis. But the plump woman with Hillary Clinton’s hairstyle in Bill Clinton’s hair color was too taken with Viktor’s theory—on electromagnetic energy and how it could possibly give life to inanimate objects—to notice.

Mrs. Mathis tittered. “Did you hear that, Charles?” She slapped her sun-spotted chest. “Maybe you’ll be able to marry that flat-screen TV after all.”

“That’s why we love this mad scientist.” Dean Mathis reached behind his wife and squeezed Will’s shoulder. “One day he’s going to invent something that will change the way we live forever.”

Mike internally rolled his eyes. _Yeah. He made me that way._

“Mrs. Mathis?” Mike finally said. 

“None for me, Michael, thanks.” Mrs. Mathis waved it away.

“Cora can’t stand vegetables,” the dean explained.

“Now, Charles.” She turned to look at him directly. “You know that’s not true. Just the green ones. There’s something about that color.… It’s not very appetizing. Am I right?”

Mike sparked and shrugged. “I happen to love the color green. Means it’s healthy. Like grass. Or trees.” He viciously scooped asparagus onto his plate and passed the dish to his grandfather.

“Michael!” Jessica snapped. Mike’s eyes hardened.

“Sorry.” He said softly.

“Anyone for seconds?” Jessica asked.

“What’s that?” Mrs. Mathis asked.

Mike found it hard to believe that plump Mrs. Mathis wasn’t familiar with seconds. Then he noticed that the woman’s ruby-ringed finger was pointing at the front door, where a red chenille glove was poking a piece of paper through the mail slot.

“What in the world…?” Grandpa got up and threw open the door.

The two teens on the other side screamed.

Patty and Stan.

“Hey!” Mike jumped up, eager to escape the dinner table. There was something about the color white that Mike found so unappetizing.

“What’s going on, girls?” Viktor asked, bending down to pick up the paper.

They exchanged a nervous look. “We, um, just wanted to drop off something for Mike,” Patty explained, her inky curls tied into low pigtails.

Mike grabbed the paper from his grandfather’s hand. “A petition?”

“We’re going to boycott the September Semi unless they change the Monster Mash theme,” Stan explained, shivering inside his bubblegum-pink cashmere cowl-necked sweater. “But don’t worry,” he whispered to Viktor. “We’re saying we don’t like the theme because it’s too scary, not because it’s offensive.” He obviously didn’t care about breaking the no-talking-about-RAD-business-even-in-RADs-only-conversations rule.

“Well I’m going with Jonathan, Ellie, and Richie.” Mike said harshly. “You know, like I said in science? Or did you conveniently forget.” Stan wilted.

“We just hoped you’d change your mind.” He said. “Especially since Nancy forbade Richie from being near Eddie because he made him cry.” Mike straightened up.

“Richie made Eddie cry?”

“Yeah. Nancy was yelling about it to Max, who told Bill, who told me.” Patty said.

“I’m still going with Jon and Eddie.” Mike said firmly. “You two need to stop taking Beverly’s word as gospel. Especially since she was exceptionally cruel to Jonathan because he stood up for me.” Patty nodded sadly.

“I know. We just always want to trust her because she’s our friend.” She said softly.

“Thanks for the update but next time, tell Nancy to tell me herself.” Mike said firmly. He closed the door and turned to face his grandpa. “I’m sorry grandpa, but I really do want to go.” His grandpa looked torn.

“Promise me that you won’t get into any hijinx.” He said.

“I swear I won’t. I just want to experience my first dance.” Mike said honestly.

He nodded. “Fine but your grandmother has to be a chaperone and you have to stay with Jonathan the whole night.” Mike nodded quickly. Viktor smiled. “You’ve got your pride back.” 

“Huh?” Mike felt confused.

“You had it the morning William and Jessica took you to Mount Hood High,” he reminded him. “Before you let those cheerleaders take it away.” He smiled proudly. “You have so much life in you.” Mike felt lost. He thought his grandpa would forbid him from going. “When I was your age, your great grandfather Henry cruelly ripped it away from me because he didn’t understand. Your grandmother taught me how to love and how to live. My beloved Lizzie saved me and I in turn saved her from herself.” Mike nodded, not understanding. “Don’t let anyone take your pride from you.” Mike nodded and Viktor finally said “Go to your grandmother. I’ll cover for you with Will and Jess.” Mike smiled and slipped away to go spend time with Lizzie.

 

* * *

 

 

“Mike, you can’t get snippy with guests!” Jessica scolded.

“I’m sorry but she basically called me unappetizing.” Mike snapped. “Plus she did nothing but ignore me all dinner.”

“But nothing! You’re grounded! No dance and no Flash with grandma until you learn your lesson.” Mike was seething. Was he seriously getting in trouble for something that wasn’t his fault.

“Fine! I don’t care anymore!” He stormed away and slammed the door to the Lab.


	19. Too Hot To Handle

Patrick and Jonathan followed Henry down the “Till Death Do You Part” aisle of the Costume Castle like dutiful maid of honor. Eddie followed them like a jealous bridesmaid.   
“What about this one?” Patrick lifted a sleek wedding dress off the rack.   
“Too shiny,” Henry said.

Patrick held up another one.

“Too lacy.”

“This?”

“Too poufy.”

“This?”

“Too white.”

“Maybe you should go as Bridezilla instead,” Eddie grumbled.

“Why are we even looking at bridal gowns?” Jonathan snapped, annoyed.

“Because apparently everyone is going to be Frankenstein!” Henry snapped.

“Weird flex but okay.” Jonathan and Eddie said in unison. They smiled at each other

“What are Steve and Nancy going as?” Eddie asked. Jon looked up from his phone.

“Uh, I think they’re going as Two-Face and a dragon.” Jon said.

“Two-Face?” Eddie asked confused. “But he’s a comic book character.”

“Well yeah but like she’s doing one side Dr. Jekyll and the other Mr. Hyde.” He explained. 

“I want scary-sexy-cool.”

“This?” Patrick tried.

“Too frumpy.”

“This?”

“Too costumey.”

“Hank, we are at a costume store,” Eddie pointed out.

“Good point.” Henry reached for his bracelet and slid the gold H charm back and forth on its chain. “So maybe you should be thinking about your own outfit. The Monster Mash is next Friday. And since today is Saturday, that gives you less than a week to—”

“I’m not going.” Eddie grumbled.

“Puh-lease.” Henry rolled his eyes. “You’re ditching us because you and Richie had a stupid fight?”

Patrick held up the last wedding dress.

“Too sweet.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” Eddie snapped, wishing he had never mentioned it. How could he possibly explain something he barely understood himself? Richie’s behavior left him with a feeling, not a story. And gutted was the only way to describe it.

“Fine, then go with someone else,” Patrick said, pinching the tulle on a cobweb veil and rubbing it between her fingers.

“I WAS going to go with Jon and Mike but Nancy’s going and I don’t want that embarrassment.”

“Ew, I swear I just saw flames. I wonder if they have better quality in the back,” Henry said.

“Hmmmm.” He looked up at the massive spiders hanging from the ceiling and tapped her chin. “Pats, can you ask the—”

“I’m on it.” Patrick hurried off in search of a manager. His butt moved with windup-toy efficiency.

“So, do you have any costume ideas?” Henry asked, trying to sound helpful and supportive.

“How about the Invisible Boy?” Eddie ran his hand along the packs of waxy Halloween makeup. Colors called bat black, bloodred, ghoulish green, and phantom white stood at the ready inside their plastic casings. Eddie leaned close and sniffed. They didn’t smell anything like Richie's pastels. They were sweeter, less intense. But tears gathered anyway.

“Knock knock,” Henry said, checking the price of a black garter.

“Who’s there?” Eddie sniffed.

“Boo.”

“Boo who?”

“Since you’ve been making that sound all morning, why don’t you go as a depressed ghost?” 

Eddie giggle-sniffed. “It’s not funny.”

“Then why are you laugh- _ing_?” Henry said in a singsong.

“I’m no- _ot_ ,” Eddie sang back.

“Fine.” Henry stepped away from the thirty-four-dollar wedding dresses and folded his arms across his utility jacket. “If you don’t go, I don’t go.”

“Yeah, right.” Eddie flicked Henry’s arm playfully. “And miss the chance to be Will’s groom?”

“Friends first,” he insisted, his blue eyes fixed and sure.

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Then it looks like you’re going.” Henry freckled face radiated victory.

Patrick returned, his hurried stride full of purpose. “I spoke to Gavin, the assistant manager. He said they aren’t expecting any more Bride of Frankenstein dresses until mid-October. But he gave me”—he peeked at the business card in his hand—“Dan Mooney’s number. He’s the manager and will be back on Monday. So we can double-check with him.”

Patrick’s dedication to Henry tickled Eddie’s insides. They weren’t typical ninth graders but they were loyal. And Eddie had grown to adore them for both those reasons.

“Nah, it’s okay.” Henry sighed, surrendering to the selection. “I’ll make up for it with an awesome wig.”

“Then I recommend the shiny one,” Patrick said, pulling it off the rack. “It’s simple and elegant, and my best man suit is shiny too, so it will look well thought out.”   
“Brilliant!” Henry laid the dress over his arm. “Now all we need is…” Hus eyes wandered. “Heyyyyy, look who it is.…”

“Hey.” Eddie heard a familiar boy’s voice. He turned. It was Ben. Despite the low lighting, he wore a pair of oversized dark red sunglasses and a gravity falls trucker hat. Seeing him made his lips thirst for gloss. It was their way of telling him they’d rather sit this one out. Eddie shut his mouth, assuring them he would too.

“Eddie here needs a companion to the semi.” Henry said.

“I heard. Stan and Bill were blowing up my phone telling me that they couldn’t believe how angry Nancy sounded when she called Max.” Ben said. “Richie didn’t physically hurt you did he?”

“No.” Eddie said.

“Just left him a sobbing heap out in the ravine.” Jonathan said. “Apparently Richie blacked out and forgot his own name and who Eddie was to him.” Ben’s grin slid off his face. “When I found him, Eddie says Richie was insisting that Max had to be pulling prank on him and that he already had someone else.”

“So would you mind terribly being Eddie’s platonic date to the semi?” Henry butted in.

“Sure. As friends though. My heart kinda belongs to Beverly.”

“Yeah yeah. Your heart burns there too.” Henry rolled his eyes. “We were all there when you read your poem to her over the pa system. Now get out your iPhone,” Henry insisted.

“I’ll bump you Eddie’s number.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Eddie seethed.

“One-two-threeeeee… BUMP!” Henry and Ben knocked phones.

“Got it,” Ben said to his screen. Then, to Eddie, “I’ll text you day of.”

“Cool.” Eddie grinned, his mouth still closed.

The short bike ride back from the Costume Castle was mostly silent. Optimistically sunny, the blue sky seemed to challenge Eddie the same way Henry had, making it almost impossible for him to wallow. Every few blocks, Henry would assure Eddie that he was only trying to help. And Eddie would say he appreciated it but he hadn’t asked for help. And then more silence.

“This is me,” Eddie announced as they approached the top of Radcliffe Way.

“You still don’t have a costume,” Henry called.

“I still don’t care.” Eddie waved good-bye, partially smiling despite hinseld.

Hurrying past his mother and the bottles of wine she was setting out on the table, Eddie stomped up the wooden steps to his room.

“We’re having some neighbors over for a wine-tasting class in an hour,” Sam called up the stairs. “In case you were wondering.”

Eddie slammed his bedroom door, letting his mother know he wasn’t.

“I have your fan,” Vic called from his bedroom. “I’ll bring it back when my toenails are dry.”

“Whatever,” Eddie mumbled. 

Eddie flopped onto his Love Simon comforter. After the first wave of sobs passed, he rolled over and stared at the wood rafters on his ceiling.

His iPhone chirped. He had a text. It was from Ben.

BEN: I forgot to ask about your costume.   
  
Eddie tossed his phone aside without responding. Was he really going to the dance with Ben? The thought of a pity date with someone else’s boyfriend felt lonelier than going alone.

Even with open windows, the heat in the house was unbearable, something Darryl had been trying to have fixed for weeks. Not that Eddie really cared. He was numb all over. If it hadn’t been for the sweat on his forehead, he wouldn’t have even noticed.

He began to wallow all over again. Sweat brought back memories of the previous night… being under the ThermaFoil… kissing Richie…

“Hey,” he heard him say.

He shot up and bumped his forehead on his knee.

“You okay?” He put his hand his shoulder.

Eddie nodded, unable to speak.

There he was. Glasses. Dorky smile. Hawaiian print short-sleeved button-down. Pastel-stained, guitar calloused fingertips. As if nothing had ever happened. “It’s so hot in here.” He fanned his face.

“Then leave.” He flopped back down on his back.

“I don’t want to,” he protested.

“Well, what do you want, then?”

“I came by to tell you that last night was fun,” he said.

“Yeah, until it wasn’t.”

He sighed. “I blacked out again, didn’t I?”   
“More like dicked out, Richie.” Eddie sat up. He hung his legs off the edge of his bed, leaned back on his hands, and faced his closet. Looking at him was almost as impossible as forgiving him. “And stop with this whole blacking-out excuse, okay? It’s insulting. Go try it on Firecracker. Maybe he’s bimbo enough to believe it, ’cause I’m not!”

“It’s true,” he pleaded. “I came to by the house in the cul-de-sac.”

“Well, you should have stayed there.”

“If I did, you wouldn’t have a date for the September Semi,” he said, trying to be cute.   
“Yes, I would,” he said, trying to hurt him. “I’m going with Ben.”

He didn’t respond. Mission accomplished.

“Eds.” Richie went to the foot of the bed and grabbed his legs. “The last thing I remember is kissing you under that blanket. After that I—”

“Trust me, Richie.” He finally looked at him. His face was covered in sweat, shame, and confusion. “You’re not blacking out. I almost wish you had.”

“Then why don’t I remember anything?” He wiped his forehead.

“Because you’re using your blackouts as an excuse to act like a fucking tool!” Eddie snapped “And don’t call me Eds like you didn’t accuse me of being in cahoots with your sister’s friends and trying to prank you!” 

Jackson removed his glasses and began dabbing his forehead with the hem of jus shirt.   
“What are you doing?” He reached for his iPhone. Involving the police was not out of the question, and he began recording just in case he needed proof.

“You again?” He lifted his brows. “I should have known from all this sweat.” He mopped more sweat off of his forehead. “I only ever see you when I’m sweatier than Troy after gym.”

“Richie, enough!” Eddie jumped off of his bed.

“Why do you keep calling me Richie?”

“Because that’s your name,” Eddie insisted, holding his iPhone to his face.

“No, it isn’t.”   


“Really?” Eddie challenged. “What is it, then?”

“Mike. Mike DJ Hyde-Wheeler. DJ as in my great grandfather Dr. Jekyll. Hyde for Mr. Hyde! I found some papers in our attic, and it looks like he did all these weird experiments with tonics back in the day—experiments on himself! After he drank these potions, he turned into quite an amoral man.” Eddie ended the recording.

The door swung open, revealing Vic clutching the fan in his arms. “What the fuck are you doing here.” He asked, anger visible in his eyes. 

“I don’t know!” Mike said, suddenly looking terrified of Vic. Eddie quickly put himself between Vic and Mike/Richie. Eddie took the fan and placed it on the ground and slowly stood up between the two boys. It took a few minutes for the room to cool down. He put on his glasses.

“I swear to god, if it wasn’t for Eddie, I’d rip your dick off and shove it down your throat!” Vic snapped.

“What?! Holy shit! Eds! Call the guard dog off!”

Eddie felt the sting of clarity zip up his spine. “What’s your name?”

“Huh?”

“What’s your name?” He pressed.

“Richie.” He backed up, leaned against her ladder, and rubbed his slick forehead. “Oh no. Did I just have another blackout?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie said. “Only you didn’t black out.” He stood beside him and pressed PLAY on her iPhone. “Richie, meet Mike Wheeler.”

 

“Richie, wait!” Eddie called. But he didn’t listen.

After seeing the way he had acted in front of Eddie, he hurried off faster than the paparazzi on a Cardi B lead.

Vic didn’t say a word. All he did was glare at Eddie and shake his head disapprovingly.

“What?”

“Exactly.” Vic lifted his blond hair and fanned the back of his neck.

“Exactly what?” Eddie snapped, his thoughts smudged and whirling like Richie’s carousel sketch.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“What can I do?” Eddie glanced at the unpacked boxes in his room. Maybe he could tackle those. “I don’t think it’s a call-the-police kind of thing.”

“No but this is a ‘my boyfriend needs me to be supportive right now’ kind of thing.” Vic said. “Clearly you still care about him if you didn’t let me kill him. Plus that Mike Wheeler personality is an absolute dork. I’d think you would have gone for him.” Eddie rolled his eyes and raced past him and to Richie’s house ignoring his mom and the guests. Until he heard a voice. 

“Eddie?” Eddie skidded to a stop and turned. Lo and behold, it was Mike Hanlon.

“Can you tell my mom I’ll be right back. I have to deal with something.” Eddie rushed out.

Mike nodded and said “Good luck with whatever it is.”

Charging toward the white cottage, Eddie felt like a romantic-comedy cliché—racing to the airport before his jilted lover’s plane took off. But that’s where the similarities ended. As far as he knew, the boy chasing after a jilted crazy had not been done. To be fair, not a lot of gay movies are suitable for under 14. The door to his house was open a crack.

“Richie?” He gently called. “Richie?” He pushed the door with his index finger. An icy blast of air stung his hand. He stepped inside. It couldn’t have been more than sixty degrees. Were thermostats in Derry really so difficult to control?

At first Eddie thought better of barging into Richie’s home, especially since his mother was his English teacher and his aunt was his science teacher, but he had done it to him twice, so…

“Chee?” He called softly.

Dusty velvet couches, dark Oriental rugs, and cluttered corners filled with knickknacks that could have arrived via time machine from Old World London cramped the small space. And bogged it down with a sense of historical weariness—an unexpected contrast to the bright, cheery innocence of the exterior. Eddie smiled to himself. It was a contrast he knew all too well.

“If you knew who I was, why didn’t you tell me?” Richie shouted from somewhere on the second floor.

Eddie heard his mother’s voice. “I wanted to protect you!” she insisted.

Eddie knew he should leave but couldn’t.

“From what?” Richie sobbed. “Waking up in strange yards? Making a fool of myself at the neighbors’ house? Freaking out the only guy I’ve ever really liked?”

Eddie couldn’t help smiling. He really liked him.

“Because you haven’t protected me from any of that!” Richie continued. “It’s all happened. And that was just in the past twenty-four hours! Who knows what I’ve done in the last fifteen years.”

“That’s the whole point,” his mother explained. “This hasn’t been going on for fifteen years. It started to get worse as you got older.”

They were silent for a second.

“What triggers it?” Richie asked, sounding calmer.

“Overheating,” this time it was Nancy.

Eddie shuffled through the memories of his Mike encounters. Of course! ThermaFoil… his bedroom… the fan…

“Overheating,” Richie repeated calmly. As though he should have known it all along. “That’s why it’s always so cold in here.”

“And why I never let you play sports,” Ms. T explained, sounding relieved to share her secret.

“But why heat?”

“Richie, sit down for a second.” There was a pause. “I’ve never told you this, but your great-grandfather was Dr. Jekyll.… He was a kind, gentle man, just like you. But sometimes his shyness held him back. So he created a potion that gave him courage, and made him more… forceful. He became dependent on it, and eventually… it killed him.”

“But how did I—” Richie began.

His mother cut him off. “The potion was toxic and ended up corrupting his DNA. And the trait was passed down. Your grandfather and father had it too.”

“So Dad didn’t abandon us?”

“No.” Her voice cracked. “We met when I was a genetic research scientist, and… I did everything I could.” She sniffed. “But the mood swings became intolerable, and it… well, it drove him mad!”

“By the time Holls was born, daddy wasn’t daddy. It was Wentworth. Wentworth through and through.” Nancy whimpered. “And I’m so glad you can’t remember him. He used to hurt us. Or more specifically me and Mike. The last day he was around, I called Aunt Karen because he kicked you so hard, you fell down the stairs.”

“But, I don’t remember that!” Richie said.

“Because Mike would come out to protect you.”

Richie didn’t respond. Ms. T was silent. The only sounds coming from the upstairs room were sniffles and heartbreaking whimpers.

Eddie cried too. For Richie. For his mother. His sisters. For his ancestors. And for himself.   
“Is that going to happen to me?” he finally asked.

“No.” Ms. T blew her nose. “It’s different with you three. Perhaps it’s mutating. But it seems to affect you only when you get too hot. Once you cool down, you shift back.”

There was a long pause.

“So are you like, his”—he paused—“… his mother too?”

“I am,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Because he is you… only different.”

“Different how?”

“Mike is comfortable in the background, whereas you tend to be more loud and in the spotlight. He loves stories; you love art and music. He is thoughtful, while you’re confident. You are both terrific in your own way.”

“Does he know about me?” Richie asked.

“Yes.” Nancy said. “You one time turned into Mikey in the middle of a conversation with me when we were fourteen and ten. I called him Richie. So he asked mom about you. Mike loves and cares about you as much as I do and he’s just as much your brother as he is mine.”

“Am I the last one to know?” Richie asked.

“No. Holly doesn’t know yet. She hasn’t manifested yet. It’s just you, me, Mike, and Carol.”


	20. Gotta Bolt

Plan A was ready for activation. After a week of intense prepping and planning, it was the most respectable way for Mike to get to the September Semi. But it wasn’t the only way.

“Mom, Dad, can I talk to you for a minute?” He asked, fresh from his evening charge and aromatherapy seam-steam.

They were on the sofa, listening to jazz and reading by the fire. Their Fierce & Flawless had been removed, and their neck bolts were exposed. Dinner had been made (thanks to Mike), the dishes had been cleaned (thanks to Mike), and there had been no indiscretions for seven whole days (thanks to Mike).

It was time.

“What’s up?” Will put down his medical journal and took his worn UGGs off the ottoman: an invitation to sit.

“Um…” Mike felt his neck seams. They were loose and relaxed from their steam.

“Don’t tug,” Jess warned. Her violet eyes ripened to an eggplant purple against her green skin. It seemed criminal that others couldn’t enjoy how naturally beautiful she was.

“Are you nervous about something?” Will asked.

“Nope.” Mike sat on his hands. “I just wanted to say that I thought a lot about my behavior last week and I agree with you. It was rude and insensitive.”

The corners of their mouths turned up just a smidge, as if they were unwilling to commit to a full smile until they knew where this conversation was going.

“Just like you asked, I came right home from school every day, I didn’t text, e-mail, tweet, or post on Facebook. And during lunch, I only spoke when spoken to.”

All of which was true. He’d even avoided eye contact with Will. Which hadn’t been too hard, since Henry had switched seats with him in science class. Though now Ellie had decided to sit right next to him.

“We know.” Will leaned forward and double-tapped his knee. “And we couldn’t be more proud.”

Jess nodded in agreement.

“Thank you.” Mike humbly lowered his eyes. One… two… three… GO!

“Sodoyouthinkyoucouldtrustmetogotothedancetonight?” He blurted before losing his nerve.

Will and Jessica exchanged a quick glance. 

Are they considering it? They are! They trust—

“No,” they said together.

Mike resisted the urge to spark. Or scream. Or threaten to go on a charging strike. He had prepared herself for this. It had always been a possibility. That’s why he’d read Acting for Young Actors: The Ultimate Teen Guide by Mary Lou Belli and Dinah Lenney. So that he could act like he understood their rejection. Act like he accepted it. And act like he would return to his room with grace. “Well, thanks for hearing me out,” he said, kissing them on the cheeks and skipping off to bed. “Good night.”

“Good night?” Will responded. “That’s it? No argument?”

“No argument,” Mike said with a soft smile. “You have to see this punishment through or you’re not teaching me anything. I get it.”

“O-kay.” Will returned to his medical journal, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“We love you.” Jessica blew another kiss.

“I love you too.” Mike blew two back.

Time for Plan B.

“All right, Glitterati,” Mike said, taking his fluffy confidants into the lounge area of the lab. “This isn’t going to be pretty. Rules will be broken. Friendships will be tested. And huge risks will be taken. But they’re small prices to pay for true love and personal freedom, right?” He placed their cage on his orange-lacquered side table. They clawed the glass in agreement.

Blasting Panic! At The Disco’s “Say Amen (Saturday Night),” Mike tore open a box of hair bleach and pulled a discarded wig that had been intended for if Will had decided to make a girl close to him and that Mike had placed on a foam head. He painted long stripes from root to tip the same distance as Grandma Lizzie’s.

While waiting for them to set, he reclined on his green pillow-covered Moroccan chaise and began texting Stan. “Here goes.” He sighed.

**MIKE:** Still boycotting?

**STAN:** Yup. Beverly, Bill, Patty, and Auds r here. Love that ur txting again.  Sure u can’t come over?

**MIKE:** punished    
  
“This is the semi-manipulative part,” Mike told the Glitterati. “I’ve saved this secret all week, and it needs to be released.” He typed a message and then hit SEND.

“Forgive me Eddie and Richie.” Mike mumbled

**MIKE:** FYI my parents were at Eddie’s house last weekend for some wine-tasting party and heard he was going to Semi w/ Ben.

**STAN:** FYI they rented that house from my grandparents, u know.   
  
That was hardly the response he’d been hoping for.

**MIKE:** Cool about ur grandparents’ place. Think it’s true about Ben? Does Bee know?   
  
Silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… It was 6:50 PM. The dance would be starting in forty minutes. Where was—

**BEVERLY:** Is this true?   
  


He sat up. Yes!

**MIKE:** That’s what my mom said.

**MIKE:** Wanna bust them?

**BEVERLY:** Totally but we don’t have costumes.

 

Mike wiggled in place and turned to the Glitterati. “It’s working!” He felt bad for manipulating but this was for their good as well as their own.

 

**MIKE:** It’s Monster Mash! We were born in costumes! Amazing, glorious costumes.

**MIKE:** This is our big chance to see what people think of us. The real us.

**MIKE:** We have to show em there’s nothing to be afraid of.

**MIKE:** If we don’t get over our fears they never will.   
  
It was time to take a break before his friends accused him of sounding like a bumper sticker. But it was hard not to preach. He had never felt so strongly about anything. Not even Will. 

 

Silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence…   
  
“What are they doing?” Mike lay back down and sparked.   
  


Silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence…  
 **  
** **BEVERLY:** Aren’t u grounded?

**MIKE:** I’ll sneak out bedroom window.   
  


Silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence… silence…   
  
**STAN:** Meet u at the top of Radcliffe in 5.   


**STAN:** This better work.   


**MIKE:** :)

 

He kicked his slipper-covered feet in the air. Yes! Yes! Yes!

Mike blew a kiss to the Glitterati, turned off the music, and grabbed the garment bag he had pulled from the garage. Wearing nothing but sweats, he wiggled through his frosted window and jumped the six feet to freedom, feeling more charged than a Visa card at Christmastime.


	21. Is This Freak Taken?

“Okay, one more picture!” Mrs. Hockstetter hurried out of the red Cadillac SRX. She was dressed in a burgundy turtleneck, mom jeans, and blue slippers.

“Mom! Oh my god!” Patrick covered his face. Ellie pointed at the school’s front steps, which were spotted with giant green footprints and flecked with costumed kids acting too cool to enter the dance. Fog seeped from the blacked-out double doors, dragging thumping bass beats with it. “Everyone’s waiting for me inside.”

“It’s okay.” Eddie tried to put his arms around Ellie, Patrick, Jonathan, and Henry. “One more picture won’t kill us.”

Henry had managed to turn himself into a beautiful girl and had crammed his feet into satin heeled slippers.

“No,” Henry mumbled as a cluster of senior cheerleader zombies skipped by, not recognizing Henry under the wig and makeup. “But the embarrassment will.”   
“Smile!” Mrs. Hopper insisted, lifting her glasses onto her curly brown hair.

Jon, Henry, Patrick, and Ellie complied. Eddie tried. Recovering from facial surgery had been easier. Yes, he was healthy, almost asthma-free, and part of a loving family. But was it so much to ask for a relationship that lasted longer than a kiss?

All week, Richie had ignored and avoided him. He’d deflected with claims of homework and headaches. All Eddie wanted to do was be his shoulder to cry on. But obviously he didn’t want him shoulder, or any of his other body parts. Which crushed his chest more than asthma ever had.

Alone in his box-filled room each night, Eddie resisted the urge to confide in Vic. Richie’s secret was too important to share. Instead, he tried to convince himself that his distance had nothing to do with his Eddie feelings and everything to do with the promise he’d made to his mother. But there was only so much self-love he could administer to the wound. After a while it just felt pathetic, like sending himself flowers on Valentine’s Day.

It had most definitely soured Eddie’s mood and made it hard for Eddie to remember to get a costume. Luckily, Eddie had everything he needed to be Kurt Cobain’s ghost.

“You kids look great!” Mrs. Hockstetter gushed, moving back to her open car door. “I’ll pick you up at ten, sharp,” she announced, then drove away.

Her taillights faded in the distance, taking away any hope Eddie had of leaving early. Why had he agreed to leave his phone in the car? Henry had said it would “free them up.” Ha! It would do the opposite, by trapping him for two and a half hours with the wrong guy.   
“Can you please try to have fun?” Henry pleaded, as if reading his mind.

Eddie promised he would. “You look great.”

“I’d better.” He sighed shakily, lifted his train, and began wobble-mounting the steps in his four-inch heels.

Henry treated his role as Frankenstein’s bride more like an audition to be Will’s bride. Every part of his body had been colored bright kelly green—even the parts that Mrs. Hockstetter had stressed were “not to be seen by anyone except God and the inside of a toilet bowl. His seams, made of real suture thread, had been attached to his neck and wrists with clear double-sided costume tape because drawing them with kohl would not have been “honoring the character.” His Costume Castle dress had been exchanged for something more “authentic” from the Bridal Barn. If Will didn’t see his future in his heavily black-shadowed eyes tonight, he never would. Or so he believed.

“You look great too, Pat,” Eddie added.

“Damn right I do, shortstuff.” Patrick snapped. Jon rolled his eyes.

The instant Henry opened the school doors, Eddie’s chest constricted. “I can’t go in there!”   
A skeleton and a Cyclops entered instead.

“Eddie, get over it, okay?” Henry snapped.

“No,” he said, wheezing. “The fog machine. My asthma. Puffer’s in Pat's mom's…”

“Just go!” Henry pushed Eddie through the thick layer of gray smoke and guided him toward the gym. He leaned on the silver pump-handle, and the door hissed open.

Eddie tumbled through the door wheezing and hacking up a lung.

“Why the fuck did you do that Henry!” Eddie could faintly hear Jonathan yell as Ellie shoved his inhaler in his mouth. 

“Breathe!” She pleaded. Eddie’s breathing evened out and she smiled weakly. “Good thing I brought Will’s inhaler.” She said. Eddie nodded and laughed. Of course Will had asthma. “If Max doesn’t propose to you, I will.”

“Forget the proposal. Just promise me you’ll try to have a good time.” She laughed.

“I promise.” Eddie raised his palm. It was the least he could do.

Ben approached them with a huge smile.

“Here comes the Mad Hatter,” Patrick announced.

Wearing a tall red velvet hat, a matching tuxedo, and sunglasses matched to the costume, Ben looked mad adorable. Eddie decided that if he had to be stuck at a dance with someone else’s boyfriend while missing his wish-he’d-be-my-boyfriend, Ben was the guy.

“Uh, Nancy mentioned you have asthma so I thought I’d bring you punch.” He offered up the cup. Eddie grinned.

“Thanks Ben.” He got up and took the drink. He took a quick sip and sighed. It definitely helped.

“Cool Kurt Cobain costume!” He said, admiring the costume.

“Ditto on the Hatter Costume.” Eddie responded.

“We’re going to look for Will and Troy,” Henry announced, then quickly took off with Patrick before Eddie could stop them.

Suddenly left alone, they couldn’t help but notice the fun all around them. Monsters of every imaginable sort mingled, greeting one another with compliments and yanking reluctant partners toward the dance floor.

“So, what’s with the shades?” Eddie asked, trying to make conversation. “It’s pretty dark in here. How can you see anything?” In the spirit of party banter, he pulled them off.

“Give those back!” he shouted. He was so angry, he couldn’t even look at him. Instead, he looked past his shoulder, quickly shut his eyes, and then felt for his glasses as a blind man might. Eddie placed them back in his hands.

“I'm so sorry!” Eddie stammered, horribly embarrassed.

“That’s okay,” Ben said sweetly. “I should probably check in with Beverly. She’s home alone and everything, so… you cool here for a minute?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Great,” Ben said, accidentally knocking over a lone stone statue of a Vampire, and then sprinted for the exit.

After steadying the toppling vamp (who looked a lot like a girl from her English class), Eddie set out in search of Vic and, more important, cab fare. So what if he lived only three blocks away? Walking home alone from a dance was just as dangerous as sticking your foot in a bear trap.

While searching the Vegan Zone for his brother, Eddie found an elaborate meat-free spread that included baby carrots labeled GOBLIN FINGERS and tofu chunks called BEAST TEETH.

“Blood punch?” offered someone behind his.

His voice was loud but far from obnoxious. Similar to a tone he recognized, but infused with an added kick of self assuredness. It was as though improvements had been made to the original model, he was about to meet version 2.0.

Mike?

Eddie quickly turned. Red liquid splattered all over his face.

“Oh, fucking shit, I’m so sorry!” Mike (or was it Richie?) grabbed the stack of black cocktail napkins beside the bowl of Fritos marked DEMON FINGERNAILS.

“It’s fine. I’m okay!” Eddie assured, wiping the punch off of his face.

He instantly became a human tissue box, presenting a steady stream of napkins with the utmost reliability. Once the liquid had been absorbed and the napkins tossed into the bin marked MASH TRASH, they exchanged a warm smile that felt like returning home after a long trip.

“Richie?”

He nodded cheerfully.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asked, relieved. “Not that you don’t have a right to be here or anything. I just… you know… you’ve been so busy lately.”

“I thought you might wanna hump.” He pointed to the pillow stuffed up under the back of his sweater like a hunchback.

“Oh.” Eddie elevated spirits Shot into the air but then plummeted when he realized it wasn’t said with his usual joking tone. Grabbing his wrist, he led him to an empty table and whispered, “Mike? Is that you?”

“No.” Richie reddened. “It was a joke. I thought you could use some cheering up, that’s all.” Eddie relaxed.

“You idiot! You scared me! You said it differently from how you usually make your dirty jokes!”  Eddie smacked his arm, smiling.“Why me?”

“I kind of saw Haystack take off, and I know he was your date and everything.”

Eddie gasped, trying to seem offended. But he was struggling to look concerned about his date leaving, and failing as a smile kept tugging on his lips. He seemed adorably pleased with his discovery that he was now available. And, truth be told, Eddie was too. “You were spying on me?”

He lifted a green plastic doll arm off the table and shook it in front of his face. “I learned it from you!”

“Except I didn’t spy on you!” Eddie laughed.

“Uh huh, then what were you doing staring into my window? The first time I went over to your house?”

“You dip! I was talking to Henry and was looking for my pillow!” Eddie laughed even harder.

“Oh, oops?” Richie grinned. 

He laughed with him and then grabbed his hand. A warm current passed from his body into hers, and from hers to his, like electrical sockets that were joined.

“So, did you come here to tear me and Ben apart?” Eddie teased.

He ran a hand through his long layers and looked out at the whirling monsters on the dance floor. “I wanted to make sure he was treating you properly, that’s all.”

“Ben’s been nothing but sweet.” Eddie defended. “In fact he apparently asked YOUR sister if I had any special needs he needed to account for.” Richie raised his eyebrows.

“He told me after I had an asthma attack going through the fog machine.” Eddie explained. “And I kinda heardnancyandyourmomtellingyouaboutMike!” 

“I know. I left the door open on purpose. And I saw you running back to your house.”

“You did! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay with it. I didn’t want you to feel like you owed me anything. It’s kind of a heavy secret to carry around, you know?”

“Is that how you got that hump on your back?” Eddie teased.

They both laughed.

And then they waited for a slow song and danced.

Cheek to cheek, they swayed to Long Live by Taylor Swift, a true Monster Mash in a gym of impostors. The invisible repellent force was gone. The only thing between them now was the soft breeze of Richie’s mini-fan.


	22. Head over Heels

Standing outside the double gym doors, Mike, Stan, Patty, Audra, Bill, and Beverly locked hands like the Pussycat Dolls about to take their final curtain call. They’d worked up their nerve on the drive over. Perfected one another’s outfits in the parking lot. And declared this outing a small step for monster-kind. Now all they had to do was work up the courage to go inside before the dance was over.

“Okay, when I count to three.” Mike rolled back his shoulders, which were slightly visible thanks to Grandma Lizzie’s beautiful regency era wedding dress. “One… two…”

Suddenly the doors flew open. And like a vicious Red Rover opponent, someone tore through the teens’ arms and broke their bond.

“Ben?” Beverly gasped, her gold chandelier earrings swinging underneath her straight black hair. Her body was wrapped head to toe in white linen and adorned in a lavish blend of turquoise and gold jewelry and she’d dug out her black wig. Made of solid gold, her snake-shaped crown with the ruby eyes could double as a weapon, and she wasn’t afraid to use it on two-timing guys. Or so she had said in the car.

“You changed your mind!” Ben smiled. His smile faded when he took in Mike wearing a wedding gown, Stan dressed like he was Brad Pitt in Interview with A Vampire, Patty wearing a crop top, surf shorts, and letting her fins hang out, Audra and Bill’s exposed coat, and Beverly’s mummified body. “Are you crazy?” he whisper-snapped, pushing them back toward the stinky fog machine.

Beyoncé’s song “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)” began playing inside the gym. “They’re playing my song!” Beverly announced. She held out her hands, and the others latched on.

“Bev, you’re not single!” Ben wedged his body between her and the door. “This whole Eddie thing is a misunderstanding. I swear. I was just going to call you.”

“If you liked it, then you should’ve put a ring on it,” Beverly teased.

“Where?” Ben lifted her bejeweled hand. “There’s no room. The lot’s full. Plus in my culture, we were engaged when I threw an apple at you last year.”

“Then park somewhere else.” She waved him away, kicked open the gym door, and dragged her friends inside.

“Don’t do this!” he called.

But it was too late. Beyoncé’s fast-clapping beat lured them with the hypnotic power of a Siren’s song, straight to the dance floor. Protected by their fraternity and propelled by his dedication to change, Mike moved through the crowd with superstar confidence.   
Heads turned as they passed. Compliments landed at their feet like roses. The Glitterati would have been proud. So would Vik and Lizzie.

As they approached the dance floor, Henry and his rather creepy lackey Patrick appeared. Without Will!

It was a great sign. He stepped out in front of Mike, forcing him to release Stan’s icy hand.

“Who are you?” Henry sneered.

“Elizabeth Frankenstein. Who are you supposed to be?” Mike shot back “Discount Bride of Chucky?”

Bekka pointed at Mike’s bare feet. “Couldn’t afford shoes after you went dress shopping at the dollar store?”

“Actually, did you know that the real Bride didn’t wear shoes at her wedding?”

“Did you know that the real Bride of Frankenstein had a groom?”

“Did you know the real Frankenstein wasn’t given a name in the book besides calling himself Adam exactly once in the book?” Out of the darkness materialized Jonathan, letting his yeti fur loose. “And that his bride was made of the maid Justine in one retelling and was the scientist’s reanimated wife Elizabeth in the book? And Lily in the tv show Frankenstein Chronicles?”

Mike smiled. 

“What are you doing Jonathan?” Henry snapped.

“Finally doing something I’ve wanted to do since you got your hooks in my brother!” Jon responded with a laugh. “Fuck you Henry!”

Henry huffed and stormed away very wobbly with Patrick trailing behind him.

Jon grinned at the younger teen. “That was so fucking liberating.”

“That was hilarious,” a boy whispered in his ear.

Mike turned around. A black rose was floating in the air in front of his face.

“Here.” The rose moved closer. “I swiped it off some Scary Fairy guy. It’s for you.”

“Belch?” Mike laughed.

“Yeah,” said the invisible boy. “I think what you’re doing is really brave.”

He slid the rose behind his ear. “Don’t worry—I took off the thorns.”

“Thank you.” Mike touched the flower gently, the way his gift had touched him.

“Awooooooooooo!” Bill howled from the middle of the dance floor.

“Awooooooooooo!” everyone howled back.

Mike squeezed through the sweaty crowd, anxious to join his friends with Jonathan trailing behind him. On his way, hands reached out and touched his skin.

“Awesome!”

“That green makeup looks so real.”

“Killer costume!”

“Are those neck piercings?”

“I want some.”

“I know, me too.”

“She’s got better seams than my baseball.”

Mike was thrilled but not at all surprised by everyone’s positive reactions. He knew they would feel this way. There was never any doubt. It was all about proving it. And his friends, dressed as themselves and dancing with normies, did just that. Mike peeked at his phone to note the exact time was 8:13 pm.

“Yayyyyyy!” Mike shouted as he joined the others.

“MIKEEEE!” they shouted back.

“This is a ripper, mate,” Patty announced, dumping a bottle of water over her head. Her scaly skin glistened with a silver opalescence.

“Wooooooooo!” The normies cheered for what they assumed was reckless abandon.

Audra’s fur was starting to curl with moisture. As was Bill’s. Beverly was crunking with a normie boy who was wearing her snake crown. And Stan was all smiles and fangs.

“Look.” He pointed at his pale forehead. “Perspiration!”

“You’re not cold?” Mike beamed.

“I’m not cold!” He whipped his cashmere coat into the crowd.

Their combined elation was a rush Mike had never known.

“Hi my beautiful bride,” a boy whispered in his ear.

“Belch?”

He turned him to face him. “Um, it’s Will, actually.” Mike looked down at Will’s face and was in awe of how handsome Will looked. Gripping his satin-covered shoulders, thumb-rubbing his skin, he stood before him in a dark suit. Mint-green skin, bolts, seams, and forward-combed bangs: He was the complete package. And he had come for him.   
In his fantasy, they were hidden under the stairwell. And yet there they stood, in the middle of the party. Surrounded by normies and RADs. Openly touching. Looking into each other’s eyes. Not afraid.

He ran his hand over his streaked black hair. It tingled with electricity.

“I’m glad you decided to wear it down instead of in that big bouffie thing.” He smiled with his soft brown eyes. “It’s much nicer.”

Mike couldn’t reply. He couldn’t do anything but stare.

Is this how zombies feel?

With warm hands, he held his neck… pulled his face down toward his… and first-kissed him. The way people kiss on soap operas. Only better.

Much better.

Mike began to spark. Then he drifted off like a helium balloon liberated from a birthday bouquet. As his head floated higher, the world below got smaller and smaller. Sounds lost their meaning. Responsibilities were pointless. Consequences became unfathomable. His entire existence was about this very moment. Nothing before. Nothing after.

Just now.

He thumb-rubbed his neck seams with increasing pressure, as their kiss intensified. Mike floated higher. Pleased with himself for having washed and oiled his seams. Proud of how soft and malleable they must feel to him. Certain they would end up being one of the things he loved most about him.

He gripped his head. Moved it from side to side. As if leading them in a dance that he choreographed just for them. Hmmmm. He liked that idea. A dance just for—

SKRRRRITCH!

A sudden sharp pain sliced through Mike’s neck. His lips flash froze. Sparks flared in front of his eyes. Dizziness and disorientation overcame him. He was a teddy bear in a washing machine. Then it stopped. All he saw was black suit fabric. And all he heard was “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!”

His head launched skyward with rocket force. He was face-to-face with Will. His chocolate brown eyes were fading. They rolled left. Right. Then back. His lids shut. He began to wobble. Mike wobbled too. They were falling… falling…

They crashed onto the gym floor. His body, limp as a rag doll, landed on his. His head rolled toward the DJ booth.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!”

Screams, frantic footsteps, and widespread panic blended into a noisy, chaotic stew. A giant boot pulled back as if gearing up to kick him, but a gust of wind with hands scooped him up and carried him away.

“That head is floating!”

“It’s FLOATING!”

“FLOATING HEAD!”

Nothing was clear. Fractured images shook all around his like vibrating puzzle pieces.

“MONSTER!” someone shouted. It might have been Henry, but it was impossible to tell for sure.

“Floating monster head!” someone yelled.

“Grab his body,” a boy whispered. “Don’t let anyone see it. I’ll meet you by Audra’s car.”

“Belch? Is that you?” Mike tried to ask. But the head jostling and searing neck pain made it impossible to speak.

_ Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo… _

The monster alarm sounded.

“Everyone on the tables!”

_ Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo… _

“Grab chairs!”

“Up! Up!”

“Hurry!”

_ Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo… _

“Now scream!”

“Arggggrgggrggggrgggrgggr!”

“Louder!”

A cloud of stinky fog enveloped Mike. He squeezed his eyes shut, no longer able to endure the pain. Falling into darkness, he wondered what his world would be like the next time he opened his eyes. 

_ Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo… _

Assuming that there would be a next time.


	23. Monster High

Eddie and Richie had been enjoying a post-dance cool-down in an unpopulated corner of the gym when the incident occurred. A swell of screams from the dance floor didn’t distract hum from Richie’s hilarious stories about their freaky neighbors, or the way he’d punctuate each one with a soft kiss. It wasn’t until Henry started screaming “Monster!” that Eddie decided to investigate.

“What’s going on?” He asked a passing bat.

“They were making out, and this kid’s head fell off!” he yelled as he dashed toward the exit.

Richie scratched his head. “Did he really just say that?”

Eddie giggled at the insanity of it all. “It’s probably just some special-effects trick put on by Weeks.” Then Eddie’s face went clammy. “Wait. Chee, your great-grandpa(s) are the title characters in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde right?” 

“Uh yeah?”

“And you said that the Hanlons changed their name from Stein to Hanlon when they moved here yeas ago?”

“Yeah?” Richie said. Then his eyes went wide behind his glasses. And they stared at each other.

“Mike!” They whisper-yelled.

“You go back to my house with Vic.” Eddie said. “We can’t afford to have Mike show up and panic over Mike.”

“Right.” Richie said. He bolted out the door while Eddie ran to the epicenter of the screaming.

Four armed police officers burst into the gym, followed by a team of paramedics with a stretcher.

“Lock up your boyfriends! They’re infiltrating. They’re trying to mate with our species!” Henry shouted, kneeling beside Will’s fallen body. He plucked a black thread off his finger and examined it closely.

Henry stood up, his cheeks stained with tears and makeup from Patrick’s face smeared over his neck and his hair cone at half-mast. “There you are! Did you see what happened? It was awful,” he said, sobbing.

“I was with Richie.” Eddie said. 

Patrick and Troy were giving their accounts to one of the officers while a paramedic waved smelling salts under Will’s nose.

He came to with a start. Ellie burst through the crowd and ran to her brother’s side as he began screaming. She cradled his head to her and stroked his hair, like this was a common thing for her to have to do.

“He’s in pain!” Henry called. “Help him!”

They quickly gave him a shot of something that relaxed him into a blubbering baby.

“Are you okay?” Henry knelt at his side. “You thought that girl was me, didn’t you?”

Will circled his limp wrist and then giggled.

“Will! You thought it was me, right?”

He looked at him, then burst out laughing. “What happened to your hair?”

Henry ignored his question in favor of his own. “She wasn’t wearing mango lip gloss! Didn’t that tip you off?”

“Hey, Henry wearsmangolipgloss,” he slurred. “D’you know Hen-ry? He’smybooooooyf.”

“I knew it, Officer,” Henry said.

“Actually, it’s Sergeant Garrett.”

“That wasn’t a kiss, Sergeant Garrett. It was a brain suck. That’s what they do! They lure guys in and then drain their brains. You have to find her. You have to stop her!” He handed him the tiny thread. “Send this to forensics. It’s our only lead.”

“I have my best officers going door-to-door right now,” he assured huim, dropping the thread into a plastic baggie. “If there are any more nonhumans in this town, I’ll find them. Just like my grandfather did back in his day.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. Racist. He crossed his arms and stared at them.

“Where are you taking him?” Henry asked.

“Derry Hospital.”

“I’m going with you,” Henry insisted.

“Are you family?” asked one of the paramedics.

“I’m his bride.”

“Fuck off Henry.” Ellie snapped. “I’m his sister. Call Sheriff Hopper. He’s our dad.”

“Eddie,” Henry called, scooting to catch up to the stretcher. “Patrick’s going to stick around and interview the witnesses. You head out and try and find that… thing. I’ll check in from the hospital.”

“You want me to find it?” Eddie asked incredulously. “You don’t actually think there’s a real thing out there, do you? It was a trick.”

“That was no trick,” Henry warned. “Once you find the monster, turn the information over to me, and I’ll take care of it.” He waved. “Be careful!”

“How am I supposed to find an imaginary monster?” Eddie asked himself.

“Eddo.” Patrick grabbed his arm as Eddie made to leave. “Where are you going?”

“Air.” Eddie snapped.

“No time!” Patrick snapped.

“Look, your so called monster isn’t here.” Eddie retorted. “He’s probably long gone.” He pulled himself out of Patrick’s grip and took off. 

Eddie took a puff of his inhaler and then charged through the fog by the school doors. He had no idea how she was getting home. No idea who to save first. Supposed best friend or boyfriend? Wasn’t that the eternal question?

Outside, squad cars flashed their lights while police officers urged kids to get home quickly and safely. The wind blew in strong, short gusts, like an asthmatic trying to deliver an urgent message. It rattled the red party cups that littered the emptying parking lot, creating the ideal score for a campy monster hunt—something Eddie would have appreciated had he not felt like the biggest monster of them all.

“Need a lift?” Jon leaned out of a beat up jeep that looked as old as, maybe even older than, Vic. Eddie’s shoulders slumped and he hopped into the jeep behind Nancy.

“Hey Criss. Where the fuck is my brother?” Nancy asked.

“My brother took him home the moment things went south.” Eddie said quickly.

“Vic has him?” She sighed, relieved. 

“Yeah. I told him to run the moment the screaming started.” 

On the short drive back to Radcliffe Way, Eddie counted seven police cars whooshing by. The silent car stereo created a hush that was louder than any siren. Eddie never could handle the quiet. Every since he was little, the silence would make his head hurt and his ears ring. By the time they got to the top of their street, Eddie started leaking. “Question.”

“Yes,” Jon said, eyes fixed on the dark street ahead.

“Have you ever had to choose sides between a friend and a romantic partner?”

Jon nodded.

“Which side are you supposed to pick?”

“The right one.”

“What if they’re both right?”

“They’re not.”

“But they are,” Eddie insisted. “That’s the problem.”

“No.” Nancy said as Jon rolled slowly past a police cruiser. “They both think they’re right. But who do you think is right? Which side represents the thing you think is worth fighting for?”

Eddie glanced out his window as though he was expecting the answer to be revealed on a neighbor’s lawn. Every house except hers had its lights off. “I dunno.”

Jon stopped and sighed.

“They aren’t but they seem like they are.” He explained.

“Stay over please Jon?” Eddie asked. “There’s stuff I need to tell you that I can’t risk Vic or anyone overhearing.” Jon turned off the jeep.

“Sure. I’m pretty sure mom and Hop are at the hospital by now and I hate being alone when Will’s in the hospital.” Jon shrugged.

“God, mom’s probably worried sick.” Nancy sighed. “It’s a monster hunt out there and we have no way of knowing if Richie and Vic are here yet.”


	24. Freak Out

It smelled like life had stopped and all that remained were cold sterile instruments. Bright lights. Chemical solutions. Glass. Metal. Rubber surgical gloves. And something else Muke couldn’t quite place… He tried to open his eyes, but hus lids seemed locked. His limbs, shackled. His voice, muted. They say dogs can smell fear, so it must have an odor. Maybe that was it, then. He was smelling fear.

Voices expressed it all around him. It spilled from their mouths like a sponge being squeezed.

“It’s a witch hunt out there.”

“I had two cops nosing around my attic for the last hour.”

“Our lives are ruined.”

“I don’t understand. How can you not notice your own son sneaking out of the house?”

“You call that good parenting?”

“I call it a danger to society, especially our society.”

“And what about the normie boy? If he doesn’t recover, this will make national news.”

“If it hasn’t already.”

“I assure you,” Jessica said with a sniff, “we are devastated about this. And have just as much to lose as you do. William and I will do everything we can to see that this never h appens again.”

“Never happens again? We have bigger problems. How do we deal with what is happening now? My Stan will need to have his fangs removed if this keeps up. His fangs!”

“Bill, Maxine and their siblings will need laser hair removal. Their pride will be shot. And with winter coming… they’ll freeze!”

“At least you know where your kids are. Nancy and Richie haven’t come home yet. Every time I hear a police siren, I have to breathe into a bag. What if they start rounding up suspects? What if they—” Ms. T burst into tears.

“And not only is my little boy in the hospital, Eleven is missing and so is Jonathan!”

“Everyone, please.” Will’s tone was low and weary. “While we accept full responsibility for tonight’s… mishap, keep in mind that we have more at stake than any of you.” He sniffed, and then blew his nose. “This is our son they’re looking for. Our son. And, yes, she did something irreparable, but she is the one being hunted. My baby. Not yours!”

“Not yet.”

“They’re looking for a green headless girl from a monster costume party,” Will said. “We can say it was a prank.”

“Some prank.”

“Jess and I will do whatever it takes to make this go away. And we’re starting by pulling Mike out of Merston. He’s going to be homeschooled and forbidden to leave the house.”

“I think you should leave Derry.”

“Yeah!”

“Agreed.”

“Leave Derry?” Viktor boomed. “I thought this was a community! How dare you turn your backs on us after all we’ve—”

“I think we’ve all had a long night,” Lizzie jumped in. “How about we reconvene in the morning.”

“But—”

“Good night,” Jessica said.

The computer hummed a final note and then shut down.

“I can’t believe this is happening!” Jessica wept. “We can’t move. What about our jobs? Your research grant? Our home? Where will we go?”

Will sighed. “I have no idea.” He taped the last piece of gauze to Mike’s stitches, and then he dimmed the lights. “The good news is we have nothing left to fear.”

“Why?”

“Our worst nightmare just came true.”

Mike’s Lab door clicked shut behind them.

Alone and in the dark, Mike slipped in and out of consciousness thinking about Mrs. Byers’ voice and how broken she sounded when she said Jon and Ellie were still missing on top of Will being in the hospital and the two eldest Wheeler children being missing. He hadn’t meant to cause this much damage.

After each dream, Mike woke with a start, soaked in tears. But be found no relief in the peaceful silence of his room, because there everything was real. And the guilt was too immense to bear. Each time he opened his eyes, he’d quickly shut them. And wish that he had woken for the very last time.


	25. Beck and Call

Eddie’s finger hovered over the doorbell. Pushing it meant more than possibly waking some people up. It meant he had chosen a side.

He pressed the button and stepped back. His heart began to accelerate. He wasn’t afraid of the door that was about to open. Rather, the one about to close.

“Who is it?”

“Eddie Criss. I’m a friend of—”

“Come in,” said Ms. T, wearing a black chenille robe and clutching a balled-up tissue in her hands. She peered over Eddie’s shoulder and saw Jon and Nancy with him. She quickly locked the door with a chain. The back of her bob had been pulled into a squat ponytail, and mascara smudges marked her cheeks like Rorschach inkblots. Without her hard-edged Dahmer glasses, she looked like a regular worried mom.

“Richie isn’t home yet?” Nancy asked.

“I was hoping you knew where he was. He should have been back already. And with everything that’s… I’m just worried, that’s all. It’s complicated.”

“I know.”

Ms. T smiled in appreciation of Melody’s sympathy.

“No.” Eddie touched the soft chenille sleeve of her robe. “I mean, I know about Richie.”

“Excuse me?” Her expression hardened.

“I know what happens to him when he sweats. I know what he becomes, and I know why.”

Ms. T’s hazel eyes became shifty. Like she couldn’t decide whether to club Eddie over the head with a fire poker or run. “How? How do you know?”

“He told me.” Eddie lied.

“And you?” Se jutted her chin at Jonathan.

“I figured it out when you started showing up at RAD meetings.” Jon said honestly. “Richie’s like a brother to me. We’ll find him.”

Eddie took her hand. It was cold. “I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”

“Eddie, you don’t understand what’s at stake if word about Richie or Nancy gets out. It’s more complicated than you know. More complicated than he knows. A lot of people could get hurt.”

“You have my word.” Eddie raised his right palm, ready to commit. Not because he had a crush on him. Or because his kisses woke his insides like a bite of chocolate cheesecake. But because finding Richie meant saving him from himself, and the “self” was Eddie’s greatest adversary as well. And if Henry’s credo truly was friends first, he’d understand.

“We’ll help.” Jon said. All three teens got up and raced across the dark street to get bikes and flashlights. Asking his parents or Bic for a ride would mean violating Ms. T’s trust. And he couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. Finding Richie and bringing him home safely was going to be his first big accomplishment. And it would have nothing to do with symmetry, noses, or being related to Vic. This rescue mission would show Eddie what he was made of.  As opposed to what Darryl could make of him.

“How was the dance?” Sam called from the living room. She lifted her teacup off the side table and walked into the kitchen.

“It was good,” Eddie said, following her with Jon and Nancy trailing behind. “Do we have flashlights?”

Sammy shook her head. “We’re using lanterns now. They’re in the garage in the plastic bin marked OUTDOOR LIGHTING. Candles should be in there too. Why?”

“We wanted to go for a little walk. The dance was stuffy, and it’s so hot in here.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Sammy rolled her aqua-blue eyes. “The monsters are loose.” She placed her cup in the sink. “Can you believe it? It was all over the news.” She snickered. “You gotta love small-town living. They don’t know real monsters until they’ve visited our old neighborhood. Am I right?”

“Totally,” Eddie said anxiously. “Okay, good night. I won’t be late.”

Glory blew her son a kiss and then headed for her bedroom.

Eddie hurried for the door. Eager to start he search, he pulled it open and bashed right into Henry. “Oh my god, what are you doing here? Is everything okay? How’s Will?” Eddie closed the door quickly before Henry could see Jon or Nancy. Did he sound as guilty as he felt?

“He’s stable. But he had a hysterical breakdown and can’t speak.”

Eddie pulled Henry in for a hug. Henry allowed it, but he didn’t hug back. “You must be so worried.”

“I am,” Henry said. “So, um, why aren’t you out looking for the monster?”

“I was actually just on my way out,” he said, proud of his non-lie.

“Good,” Henry said, without the slightest sign of relief. “Here.” He handed Eddie his backpack. “You left this in Pat’s mom’s car.”

“Oh, thanks. You didn’t have to bring it by tonight.” Eddie cringed at the unnaturally high pitch of his guilt-laced voice.

“You know my rule.” Henry smirked. “Friends first.”

“Yup, friends first,” Eddie repeated.

“Friends first.” Henry smirked again.

Something had changed. It was more than the shock of seeing his boyfriend allegedly kiss a monster. More than Eddie’s guilt for not chasing a special effect. The different thing wasn’t in the air. It was behind Henry’s blue eyes.

“You also left this in the car.” Henry handed Eddie his iPhone. But when Eddie reached for it, Henry pulled it back and double-tapped the screen. “Look what I stumbled upon.”   
The video of Richie turning into Mike Wheeler began to play.

“Mike DJ Hyde-Wheeler. As in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Just like my great-grandfather… who was super-freaky, by the way. I found some papers in our attic, and it looks like he did all these weird experiments with tonics back in the day—experiments on himself! After he drank these potions, he turned into quite an amoral man.”

Eddie’ss tomach lurched. His mouth went dry. His breathing was labored.

“You snooped?” He managed. It was all he could think of to say.

“No, Patrick did. He questioned your loyalty.”

Why didn’t I think to erase that? Eddie could feel his heartbeat in his brain as he thought of how Henry’s discovery would affect Richie, Nancy, and their mother. Henry was no longer the friend who tipped him off to Steve’s scary pranks. He was the enemy with a monstrous upper hand.

“Give it back,” Eddie insisted.

“As soon as I e-mail the video to myself.” Henry tapped the screen and waited for the confirmation.

_ Boop. _

“Here you go.” He smacked the iPhone down in Eddie’s icy palm.

“That video was a joke,” Eddie tried. “We were making a movie. Like Will’s!”

“Lies!” Henry snapped his fingers. Patrick appeared from the side of the porch. The dutiful helper opened his backpack and pulled out Eddie’s signed contract. The one that said he would never flirt with Will Byers, hook up with Will Byers, or fail to pummel anybody who does hook up with Will Byers. Ge tore it to confetti and then scattered it all over the DID YOU REMEMBER TO WIPE? doormat.

It hurt much more than Eddie had ever expected it would. In spite of all their quirks, he really liked Henry and Patrick. They were his first real friends.

“Henry, I am so—”

Patrick presented another document.

“Silence, monster sympathizer,” he snapped. “You obviously hang with that crowd, so you obviously know where he is.”

“I don’t!” Eddie defended. “Henry, I don’t, I swear,” he pleaded. “I don’t even believe this monster girl is real.”

“I know what I saw.” Henry took the document from Patrick and handed it to Melody. “You have forty-eight hours to find her. Failure to do so will lead to a video leak of Kim Kardashian proportions.”

Patrick handed him the silver-and-red ballpoint.

“I’m not signing this.” Eddie stepped back.

“Then I’ll leak it and the video of one Jane Hopper kissing Maxine Denbrough. It’s your choice.” No. Not Ellie. Sweet awkward Ellie. He couldn’t let anything happen to Jon’s sister as well as his brother.

Eddie grabbed the pen and scribbled his name at the bottom.

“Date it,” Patrick insisted.

This time, Eddie pressed so hard he punctured the page.

Patrick pulled a yellow egg timer from his backpack and turned the dial all the way to one hour.

Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick…

“Forty-seven more turns and we’re coming for you,” Henry said.

Patrick lifted his backpack, and the two boys stomped down the steps toward Mrs. Hockstetter’s Cadillac.

Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick…

They pulled away, leaving Eddie with an unobstructed view of Richie cottage. The cheery facade looked back at him with the warmth of a trusting puppy—a puppy he was about to put to sleep.

Eddie went back inside with tears in his eyes.

“What happened?”

“Why’d you close the door on us?”

“Why’re you crying.”

Eddie sucked in a shaking breath. “I have to turn over Mike or Henry outs Ellie and Richie.”

Eddie collapsed into Jonathan’s arms as he cried. “I can’t let him hurt Chee or Ellie.”

“That little asshole!” Nancy snapped, her eyes flickering.

“Nance! Breathe! Don’t let Carol out right now! You know she’ll go on a manhunt and expose all of the rads!” Nancy breathed and her eyes stabilized.


	26. Shock it to Me

_ Mike had taken the stand. He’d been sworn in. It was time to testify.  _ _ Who cared if it was sweltering hot. So what if his makeup was melting and his green skin was exposed? So what if his seams were achingly tight? None of that mattered. Clearing his name in front of the RADs and the normies who were packed inside the courtroom was all that mattered. He would apologize to his family for betraying their trust. For putting them in bad standing with the RADs and for not heeding their warnings. She would tell Stan, Audra, Patty, Bill, and Beverly how much their friendship meant to him and that he never intended to put them in danger. He would tell Mrs. Wheeler how much be appreciated her guidance. Apologies would go to Will for losing his head and to Henry for making out with his boyfriend. He would thank Belch for rescuing him and Max for driving him home. He would tell them be didn’t deserve a second chance. But if they gave him one, he would never let them down again. Then be would make one final appeal to the normies, begging them to stop fearing RADs; to let his father share his brilliance openly with the world; to appreciate his friends’ unique fashion flair and hair growth; to allow them to come out of the casket and live freely… _ _   
_ _ But when the time came to speak, no words came out. He gnashed his teeth, sparked, and moaned like a zombie. Each attempt to explain himself became louder and louder. Women and children began wailing. Men jumped up on the benches and began stomping their feet to scare him away. But it didn’t work. Mounting frustration made him moan louder, gnash harder, and spark brighter. _ _   
_ __ Finally an angry mob rushed the stand and began tearing him limb from limb. Green body parts were being tossed like salad. The pain was so unbearable, she let out a bone-shattering wail and…

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“Wake up! Wake up!” Someone shook him. 

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“It’s okay, it’s just a dream, wake up!”

Mike blinked and slowly opened his eyes. The room was dark and still. “How much?” He managed despite his dry throat.

“How much what?” asked a boy.

“How much… was a dream?” He lowered his eyes. Ew, am I really wearing a hospital gown?

“Right now? All of it.” Mike’s eyes cleared up and he realized Mike was right in front of him. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. It was hot under those electromagnetic blankets.

“Are any of my friends here? How long have I been sleeping?” He searched the room for clues. Nothing was as he remembered. His lounge was gone. The makeup brushes had been removed from the beakers. And the Glitterati had been stripped of their glitter. “Where’s all my stuff? What are you doing here?”

“Whoa, one thing at a time,” he said. “First, you’ve been sleeping for nine hours. Second, your friends are not here. They aren’t allowed out of their houses. Maybe they called, but your dad confiscated your phone. Third, your parents boxed up your stuff because—and these are their words, not mine—they have been spoiling you for too long and all that’s about to change. And fourth, I scored a ride with Vic Criss after that lame dance. Then I followed Belch and Max over. When they dropped you off, I kind of stayed and hid and—”

“Wait! The dance happened?” Mike’s eyes filled with tears. “I thought you said it was all a dream.”

“No I said right now all of it was a dream. That dream you just had.”

“Ugh!” Mike lay back down. Instinctively he reached for his neck seams, but they were under a thick layer of gauze. “What am I going to do?”

“About what?” Mike stroked his hair. He sparked a little. He laughed with delight.

“About what?” He sat up. “About ruining everyone’s life!”

Mike met his glare with smiling hazel eyes. “You didn’t ruin lives. You jump-started them.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true!” Mike defended quietly. “Before you, the most light belong to Ellie. And Henry Bowers stole it from her because he’s a piece of crap. And I can help you.”

“Why do you want to help me?”

“Because you make me want to write stories about princes like you.” He touched his bolt. It zapped his finger. “How cute is that shock thing you do?”

He giggled. “Pretty cute.”

“Mike?” William whisper-called from the hallway.

“Ye—”

Mike quickly covered his mouth. “Pretend you’re asleep. I’ll hide.”

Mike hurried for his bed.

His bedroom door creaked open. “You awake?”

He held perfectly still.

“It’s a sauna in here,” William  mumbled to himself. Seconds later a whoosh of air shot through the vents.

_ I love you, Dad, _ Frankie thought,  _ even if you don’t love me. _

They remained silent and still for the next five minutes, just to be safe. But the anticipation of seeing Mike again made Mike twitch. He was like a gift he hadn’t opened yet. He wanted to learn more about him. Share his dreams for change. Hear his. Listen to his music. And spark.

“It’s safe,” he whispered into the darkness. “You can come out now.”

“Mike?” The voice sounded just slightly different.

“Mike?” Mike parroted back. Mike Wheeler stepped out of the closet.

“How did I-? Nevermind. Look, you know my alter ego Mike right?”

Mike nodded quietly.

“I’m Richie. The usual person to inhabit this body. Look, last I remember Henry Bowers was after you and Eddie wanted me to meet up with him back at his house so that we could figure out how to make sure Henry forgets all about you.” 

“How did Eddie-?”

“He’s smart and he realized that your grandparents changed their last name when they moved to the states.” Richie rushed out. “I have to go make sure my mom, aunt, and sisters know I’m okay. But I’ll come back at some point.” Mike nodded, understanding that Richie had a priority to his mom and sisters.

“Tell Eddie thank you for not telling Henry about me.” Mike said opening the window for him. Richie slipped out and quietly said “I’ll tell him.”


	27. Hot Mess

Pacing across his porch while Jon and Nancy watched on, Eddie thought of those windup dogs he’d seen on display on tables in the mall. They’d yap, walk, sit, turn, and walk some more. Then they would bash into the side rail and fall on their hind legs. With a mini hop they’d return to all fours, ready to yap, walk, sit, and turn all over again. Like him, they moved but never got anywhere.

  
Where was he supposed to go? Should he waste his time tracking an innocent boy? Figure out how to get that video off Henry’s phone? Bribe Patricj? Confide in Vic? Search for Richie? Move back to Beverly Hills? He was ready for action. Be just didn’t know which action to take.

Sneakers slapping on pavement caught his attention. A tall, slim figure was running up the street toward him.

“Eddie spaghetti!” he called.

“Richie?”

He raced for him, propelled by the strength of a thousand regrets.

“I’m so sorry!” Eddie whispered. “I never should’ve let you leave without making sure Vic knew to get you home!” Nancy and Jon caught up.

Eddie released his grip. His hair smelled like sweat and ammonia. “Where have you been?”   
“Richie!” Ms. T ran from the cottage in her robe. “Thank heaven you’re okay.”

Eddie peered down the dark street, no longer capable of facing Ms. T. In just forty-seven hours, her son would be exposed as a “monster,” and it would be Eddie’s fault. So much for his word; it had a shorter shelf life than sashimi.

“Hey, Mom.” Richie hugged her. “I’m fine.”

“Mom. One of my friends is still missing and we need Richie’s help.” Nancy said.

“Alright but don’t go too far and don’t stay out too late.” Ms. T said. The four went back to Eddie’s house.

“Come on. My room.” Eddie whispered, sneaking everyone inside.

“Who’s missing still?” Richie asked.

“No one’s missing.” Eddie sighed. “I just- Henry found something and it affects you.”

“He found the video?”

“And he’s saying that if we don’t turn Mike in, he’ll tell the world about Mike and out Ellie.” Nancy said.

“No, we aren’t turning Mike in.” Richie said. “Nance, Mikey’s your brother as much as he’s mine. He likes Mike. And I can’t, in good conscience, turn Mike over.”

“Then Henry’s going to out Ellie and you!”

“There has to be some other way besides breaking Mikey’s heart.”

“What about what this is going to do to you? And your family? And us?” Eddie’s voice quaked. “If Henry shows this video to the police, they’ll think you’re. They could arrest you… or make you leave Derry.”

  
“I can’t, Eds,” he said softly. “He was sweet. He wanted me to tell you thanks for trying to keep Henry away from him. But I guess you’re a liar.”

“I don’t want to turn Mike in either!” Jonathan said, “But there really is no other way.”

Nancy and Eddie nodded at Jonathan who pulled Richie to him and held him to his fur, despite his protests that it was getting too hot. Suddenly the protests stopped. Jon let go.

His glasses were off. His hair was wet. His cheeks were flushed.

“You again?” he asked.

“Hey, Mike,” Eddie said, beaming. “Wanna go see Firecracker?”


	28. Charged Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter of Book 1 y'all

A pebble bounced off the frosted-glass window.

Then another. _Plink._

Mike rolled onto his back.   
And another. _Plink._

He thought of a woman tapping impatiently on a counter top. Maybe it was that angry mob from his dreams, coming to put him out of his misery, once and for all.

Mike rolled onto his stomach, the lyrics of Panic! At The Disco’s “Good, Bad, and the Dirty” playing on a constant loop in his head. Mike wanted to stand on his metal bed and shout, but he didn’t want to wake his parents. The sun would rise in an hour, and they’d be up shortly after that.

Then what?

They’d said they were pulling him out of school and that he was forbidden to leave the house. 

Rolling onto his back, he wondered how much longer he could avoid them by pretending to sleep. A day? A week? A decade? Whatever it took, he was up for it. Shame was an intolerable emotion. But it required the presence of another person to survive. Someone to tisk-tisk while shaking their head side to side, then to rattle off the ways he had disappointed them. Without that person, the emotion gets downgraded to guilt. And while guilt can also be horribly uncomfortable, it’s an easier sentence to serve, because it’s self-imposed. And can therefore be self-removed.

“Firecracker?”

Mike sat up slowly, not sure whether he should trust his ears. After all, they were controlled by his brain, which had proven to be very unreliable.

“Firecracker! Open up!”

Mike is back!

Mike thought about playing hard to get and making him think he’d moved on. Girls did it in movies all the time. But he was under house arrest. Where would he be moving on to, exactly? The kitchen?

“Shhhh,” he hissed, quickly covering the unsightly hospital gown with his black robe.

Mike unlatched the window. Mike quickly squeezed inside, like a grown dog through a puppy door. The sight of him spread a neon rainbow across his stormy day. Which was odd, since he had been all about Will less than ten hours earlier. Or maybe he was all about Mike then too, but he just hadn’t known it yet.

“Mike! You’re back!”

Just then a second body wiggled through. This one had brown hair, a striped shirt, blue jeans, and red sunglasses. And a third and a fourth.

Jonathan, Nancy, and Eddie.

“Shhhh,” Mike hissed again.

“Oh my god, it’s you,” Eddie said, awestruck. “Your skin is really gree—”

“What is he doing here?” Mike toggled between confusion and rage.

“Mike, meet Eddie. Eddie, meet Mike Hanlon.” Jonathan said.

Eddie wandered through the lab asking about everything until Jon hissed at him to shut up.

“Ok, I know you’re Frankenstein’s grandson.” Eddie asked. “Or is it great-grandson?”

“Henry’s my great grandfather and Viktor is my grandpa.” Mike explained.

“Thanks. I always get confused because your grandpa wasn’t given a name in the book.” Eddie said. “But you looked so…”

Mike put his hands on his hips and glared. “Normie?”

Eddie nodded.

Mike scoffed. “Yeah, well, people around here aren’t as go-green as they claim.”   
“I think you’re awesome-looking.” Eddie stepped closer and reached for Mike’s hand. “Can I?”

Mike shrugged like he didn’t care. “If you want.”

“Are you going to shock me again?” Eddie teased.

“Maybe.”

Eddie studied Mike’s expression with serious brown eyes, as if it might reveal his true intentions. But whether it did or not, Eddie still touched him. He wasn’t afraid to run a finger along Mike’s wrist seam. Or maybe he was, but he did it anyway. Mike respected that.

“Wanna touch my skin?” Eddie asked, like he was a monster too.

Mike nodded. “Feels like mine, only colder.”

“Yeah.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’m always cold.”

“Really? I’m always hot. I guess it’s from getting charged and stuff.”

“So, wait.” Eddie cocked his head. “You really get charged? How does that work?” He locked eyes with Jon who looked exasperated. “I’m shutting up now.”

“So, what happened to you?” He asked Mike, getting back to business. “Why did you act like you didn’t know me, and just take off?”

“Maybe I can explain.” Eddie waved awkwardly, a stranger all over again.

“Just like a stalker…” Mike mumbled. “An explanation for everything.”

Mike searched for a place to sit, now that his lounge was gone. But he quickly gave up once Eddie began.

As the rising sun continued to count down the minutes, the normie talked about his crush on Richie Tozier, his overheating issues, his mother, who was Ms. T the english teacher, his aunt, obviously Mrs. Wheeler, his deranged ancestor, and how sweat plus deranged ancestor equaled Mike Wheeler.

Then he went on about Henry, jealousy, Will, the kiss, the head incident, the video of Richie, the blackmail, needing to turn in Mike, the forty-eight-hour deadline—which was now more like forty-six—and how he didn’t know what to do.

“Wait, does this mean I cheated on Mike with Eddie?” Mike seemed horrified. Jonathan shook his head.

“Neither of us is mad.” Eddie said quickly. “I mean I was but I realized about-.” Eddie wiggled his hands at Mike.

“So you’re going to turn me over to Henry?” Mike’s voice trembled.

“No.” Eddie said firmly.

“No?”

“I didn’t want to in the first place.” Eddie said. “Yeah Beverly and Bill are usually assholes with me but you’ve been nothing but nice. Plus Mike likes you and hurting you would hurt him, which would hurt Richie. Which would hurt me.”

“Convoluted way of saying ‘no because you’re important’.” Nancy said.

Eddie shrugged and continued “Because when you’re different-looking and people like you anyway, you know it’s for all the right reasons. And not because they think you’re a physical threat who might steal their boyfriend.”

“Huh?” Mike dried his cheeks with the sleeve of his robe.

“I’m saying I’m on your side.” Eddie smiled a worried but pretty smile. “I don’t want to give in to intimidation. I want to fight. I want people to stop being so afraid of each other’s differences. So people like Richie… and you…”

“And me,” Mike added.

“… and Mike can live normal lives.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Mike reached for his neck seams but hit gauze.

“First we have to get that video away from Henry,” Eddie said.

“How? I’m not allowed to leave this room for, like, ever, so…” Saying it out loud made it real.

“That’s the hard part.” Eddie said. “But trust me when I say, that two timing douchecanoe that used to be my best friend isn’t getting his hands on you.”


End file.
